#Do I have other books literally waiting for me in my mailbox? Yes

[steddie-island]

My brain has been mean to me this week, then I got a stomach bug AND my brain was mean to me some more, so I’m going to spend money on books and bleach/ dye. Because I deserve it. 😌

[lys-lilac]

Washed over by Jealousy

A/N: The original work and the characters concept belong to Voltage Inc. The fanfiction and the character Hinata Arata is a work by me. Story taken is Romance MD: Always on Call. 

Part(1/2)

[my lines will be like this in between]

Intro: Just when you think you are getting over the fact that Dr. Kasumi belongs only to you, and when everything is going well, the uneasy feelings of yours now seem to be reciprocated. It’s now the turn of Dr. Kasumi to get jealous for you. How will you feel when you come to know that the country’s top cardiovascular surgeon is so much head over heels for you that he is infatuated? 

[Present night: Kasumi’s house]

MC: Let me make some coffee.

Kasumi: Sure.

Kyogoku: Make sure it’s of proper quality. And don’t blow the kitchen.

MC: Even after I serve coffee every other day...

It has become a norm for me, Kasumi and Kyogoku to discuss new medical papers or any other research paper related to new diseases every week. If it’s held at my home, then we must have arrived direct from the hospital. So the other two leave after the discussion to ensure that I am getting enough rest. This week’s discussion was in Kasumi’s house, since we all left early from the hospital. After having the delicious dinner prepared by Kyogoku, I suggest coffee to make ourselves more alert during the talk. 

*ring-ring*

As I was making coffee, my phone starts to ring. Both the boys become concerned, looking at me, thinking it was an emergency call. Since it’s an unknown number and thinking the same as both of them, I answer without delay. 

MC: Yes, this is Dr. MC. What can I help wi-

Unknown: I am having a problem of inability to reach a journal junkie’s head for a while now...

MC: This voice... Hinata?!

Unknown: What took you so long to recognize, of course it’s me.

MC: You didn’t even say anything before calling, how could I have heard your voice?

Shaking my head to both of them in disapproval to nothing serious, I continue talking to Hinata. He and I have been in touch via messages, but I never thought he would call me. 

MC: So, why did you call today so suddenly? Don’t say me you became so engrossed in music that you can’t move yourself now, and have turned into a musical statue...

Hinata: Oh, shut up. 

Hinata: I wanted to give you a surprise, so called you.

MC: I am hanging up-

Hinata: Hey wait! I have not even started yet! 

MC: Go on.

Hinata: Do you have some free time this Sunday?

MC: Hmm, if I exclude the only operation that’s in the morning, then yes.

Hinata: Perfect! Check your mailbox now.

MC: I am not at home now. But, I will do when I get home. 

Hinata: You, always taking the mood down. Anyway, let me reveal it to you. You are coming to my concert this Sunday!

MC: What?!!

Hinata and I both studied in high school together and were the best of friends. Whenever I felt stressed, he always heard me out, and played his guitar to soothe me. 

[Flashback]

MC: Hinata, you play the guitar so well, and even have a soothing voice. What do you want to become when you grow up?

Hinata: Take a guess.

MC: Hmm, if you are going to become a job-person someday, you might lose your talent.... Ah, then how will I hear your voice?

Hinata: You dummy. I want to become... no, I will become a singer someday.

MC: Wow, that’s really cool! Then, can I come see your concert?

Hinata: Of course, you will always be invited first, as you are my best friend!

MC: Yay!!!

[Flashback ends]

When Hinata debuted, I went to see his concert. And, he was amazing. Till the present day, he has garnered a huge audience and a lot of fans. Since his debut was 2 years ago, I never visited him or met him once till that day, due to my busy schedule.

Hinata: Hello hello?

MC: Ah, yes! I will be happy to!

Hinata: I have sent you a couple of tickets, so make sure to bring all your handsome surgeons with you! I also want to give them a good time relaxing.

MC: Sure, I will try to, but liste-

Hinata: Alright, so Hinata, over and out!

MC: Hey wait, you!

*beep*

Hinata cuts the call just after listening to my conversation. I haven’t yet revealed to him that Kasumi and I both are dating. Oh well, I guess I will do that when I see him at the concert. Thinking it, I return to my seat with the tray of 3 cups of coffee.

Kyogoku: You sure do know how to waste our time.

MC: It’s not like that! I just got connected to an old friend, so talk got longer.

Kyogoku: Hinata Arata, a singer who just debuted two years ago, and has won the interests of many companies worldwide. What exactly were you talking to the superstar, being your friend and all?

Kasumi: ...

Somehow, Kasumi seems completely silent. Maybe he is interested to listen to full talk rather than interrupting?

MC: Actually, Hinata and I were high school friends. And since it has been two years since he debuted and my visit to his performance, he wants all of us to visit his concert this Sunday. Are you all free?

Kyogoku: What?

MC: Please!

Kyogoku: Even though I wanted to go to ensure that you act as a repellant for Kasumi, but I have an operation scheduled that day. So, you two should go.

MC: Alright, but what about others? 

Kyogoku: Do you think they will want to interfere in a date? Have you really left your brain somewhere?

MC: Da-date... You mean only me and Kasumi, and none of you?

Kyogoku: Huh... I am leaving. I can’t concentrate further. 

MC: Ok, wishing you good night.

Kyogoku: Night.

As I see off Kyogoku, I realize that I haven’t got confirmation from the main person till now. I return back to study and see Kasumi reading a journal from his tablet.

MC: Kasumi...

Kasumi: Hm?

MC: Are you ok, if we go to Hinata’s concert? I really want to go, but if only you accompany me. 

Kasumi: MC.

MC: Yes?

Kasumi sets his tablet down, and takes a seat beside me. He cups my face with his hands with a smile on his face.

Kasumi: As long as you are happy, I will go with you.

MC: Thank you so much!!

I say to him as I bury myself in his chest. Sometimes, I can’t even believe myself that I got an angel like him as my boyfriend. It makes me so happy to stay by his side. I can listen his clear heartbeats and can smell his sweet scent. Stopping our studies there, we both decide to sleep.

[Afternoon: Concert dome]

[Random picture]

MC: Woah, it’s so close to the stage!

Kasumi: Yeah.

The seats that Hinata booked for us are VIP ones. View of the stage from the place is perfect. Since all the guys turned us down as Kyogoku said, both of us end up in the hall at last.

MC: Oh, come to think of it, I never asked you about which types of songs you like. 

Kasumi: I prefer classics, like soft piano, or anything like that.

MC: Yeah! I noticed the other day when a patient asked to put some piano music for his surgery, that you were humming.

MC: Apparently, he got attracted to your voice. And of course, why not, that voice of yours is literally a tranquilizer! Ah, even those lectures of yours-

As I trail off, a shadow comes close to me. Kasumi comes close to me and whispers in my ear-

Kasumi: That is only reserved for you.

MC: !

Oh. God. That voice, a little raspy and baritone, lingers in my mind. It’s so appealing that I can literally melt. As I was thinking this, a soft kiss lands on my cheek, and he intertwines his hands with mine. Thanks to the dim light, my reddened ears and cheeks are not visible to him.

But, for some reason, I feel eyes on us. Not ‘us’, but probably on ‘Kasumi’. Girls seated just beside me start to ask one by one.

Girl 1: Hey hey, is he your friend? 

Girl 2: Mind introducing him to us?

Girl 3: He is literally a god! How is he so beautiful?

MC: Uhh, he is my-

My words are cut short as they ignore me and approach Kasumi. What?! Even here, can’t they recognize this national treasure? Of course, he is always in formal wear whenever he appears on TV and magazines, but only his casual style of dressing here can’t hide his beauty! Maybe the lighting?

Girl 1: The seats beside you are empty, so can we sit there?

Girl 2: You are so handsome~

Girl 3: We are alone in the concert, so we will be happy if you hang out with-

Ah stooopppp!!!!

MC: HE IS MY BOYFRIEND!!! Who do you think you are hitting on?!

Kasumi: She is right.

I glare at them while I grasp the arms of Kasumi and lean my cheeks on his shoulders. 

Girl 2: Wait, this voice... 

Girl 3: Dr. Kasumi Toshiki??!!

MC: You realize it now?

Girl 1: And you are, Dr. MC?

Kasumi: Mind if we enjoy our date by ourselves?

MC: Girls, keep your voice down. You will disturb ever- wait wha?

I am surprised that Kasumi is handling the situation so calmly and even is direct with them to such an extent. He is as cool as a cucumber, no doubt, but declaring this with a straight face makes me a little bit shy. Just then, Kasumi shakes our intertwined hands in front of them. Without any further word, they return to their seat.

MC: Yes! Now I can proudly say to Dr. Kyogoku that I protected you! That guy always takes advantage of me by saying this... I will beat him this time!

Kasumi: Pfft...

MC: Hey, why are you laughing? My heart was literally going a mile per beat! 

Kasumi: I am just amazed that my MC is becoming bolder day by day.

MC: Now stop there...

As I speak, the announcement of starting of the concert goes, bringing our conversation to stop there.

The spotlights fall on the center of the stage. Amidst a huge ocean of cheers, the star takes the spot. Holding a guitar and headset mic on his face, Hinata smiles at the crowd. Suddenly, he looks at me and gives a little wave with his hands. That makes me a little surprised.

Hinata: Thank you everyone for making time out of their busy schedule and for coming to my concert! I will make sure to make you all re-energized! Shall we start?

All: Yeah!!!!

The power that Hinata has with his singing and handling the audience is the main reason why he attracts many people. He never lets any fan feel bored. 

He starts with a familiar song. That’s... that’s the song he always played for me in school! Unknown to me, tears well up in my eyes. Following the song, he sings many songs, sometimes stopping in between and talking between the audience. The concert is so enthralling that without realizing, 3 hours pass so fast. All the time, with a light stick, I cheer him or wave my light stick and sing along with him.

After the concert, both Kasumi and I prepare to drop by the hospital to check the post-OP conditions of some patients. 

[Evening: In the car]

As Kasumi drives us to the hospital, the silence between us makes me feel awkward. So, I decide to start up a conversation.

MC: So, how was the concert, Kasumi?

Kasumi: ...

MC: Kasumi?

Kasumi: Hm? Oh, it was good.

Dr. Kasumi, of all people is giving a late response? What is it that he is thinking about? I have never seen him like that.

MC: Right, I should give you something as a thank-you gift for accepting my request. Anything in my limit, you can ask.

Kasumi: Oh?

As he steps on the breaks at the red light, he takes off his seatbelt, leans over and presses his lips onto mine. 

MC: ---!

Those tender lips, I can never get enough of them. His silky hair brushes against my cheek, making it feel warm. Savoring the moment, I close my eyes. After who knows how long, he reluctantly separates and put his forehead over mine. 

Kasumi: This is more than enough. But-

MC: But?

A teasing look forms on his face.

Kasumi: I want more, later.

MC: Wha?

Kasumi: What, are you disagreeing?

MC: No, I mean, yeah... err..

Kasumi: Let’s go.

The signal turns green at the same time, and we both leave for the hospital.

~

Ah, this is making me feel so awkward!! I mean, I have never worked on a super tease and jealous Kasumi before. Let me know what you think, and stay tuned for the next part. Warning, brace yourselves, cause that is going to be even more exciting!

Continue to Part 2

[florenceandthemachine]

we all know that i will cling to my “jackson’s parents are trash” headcanon until my last dying breath, but every once in awhile i like to imagine things being a little bit happier. so. talk to me about stiles giving jackson the first healthy relationship he’s ever had and inspiring him to work on things with his parents. stiles sitting through awkward family dinners and pushing the three of them to say what they need to say. stiles telling jackson how proud he is of him with soft kisses.

ugh UGH hell yes 911 send somebody bc this post killed me. it killed me because it would be all Jackson and his personal growth. it would be Jackson who decides to work on his relationship with his parents, it would be Jackson who learns what love is from Stiles, it would be Jackson who is left with more good days than bad and that confuses the fuck out of him, because it would be Jackson that realizes one day that his baseline isn’t angry anymore. and he tries to thank Stiles for that and instead Stiles just flicks his forehead and shakes his head because “oh no, you can’t give me credit for that. it was all you, baby.” because it WOULD BE ALL JACKSON.

Well, it would be Jackson and his supernatural senses. 

it does start with Stiles though, and that Jackson is 100% sure of. it starts with Jackson picking up the phone, maybe six months into them dating and seven into being a werewolf (they moved fast, so what?) to a hysterical Stiles on the other line, begging and pleading for Jackson to come pick him up from his house, he’s locked himself in his room and Jackson doesn’t even wait before breaking a land speed record in his Porsche, leaving tire marks on the lawn and almost knocking over Ms. Fitzpatricks mailbox when he takes a turn (way) too fast. 

He gets to Stiles house just in time to see Stiles make the drop from the lattice outside his window to the ground, and throws his door open as Stiles dives into his car, literally burning rubber as he backs out of the driveway and floors it onto the road. Once Stiles is calmed down enough to talk, Jackson pulls over—some fifty miles away from either of their houses—and pulls Stiles into his arms.

It would have been something small that escalated into something big—like, Stiles would have just told the Sheriff about the supernatural and the Sheriff would have been pissed, and he would have been yelling and Stiles would have been yelling back, and then someone would have said something about Claudia and the yelling would have immediately upgraded to screaming, voices ripped raw as things are thrown at walls (never at one another, but things should not be thrown in general). It breaks Jackson’s heart, it reminds him of the fights he had with his parents, and he would be terrified for Stiles from the moment they crashed at Jackson’s place to the moment he asked Jackson to drop him off.

But Jackson is a good boyfriend so he would oblige. He’d drive Stiles home and step out of the car when he realized the Sheriff was still home. He’d be a second too late to say something when the Sheriff throws the front door open, and his claws would slice through the metal of the hood of his car when Stiles took off—but it would be toward his dad, not away from him, and Jackson would be blindsided when they both collided in a hug, apologizing to one another, crying, and thanks to his supernatural senses he could hear every word and smell every tear. 

He had thought that kind of fight would be it for Stiles and his dad, those kind of fights were it for Jackson and his parents, but they were both just... hugging and apologizing. It blew his mind. Moreso, it made him think.

He’d lay his thoughts bare for Stiles, as he always did, one evening as they were watching a movie on Jackson’s too-big TV in his too-big bed in his too-big house. He’d ask Stiles how they did that—how they just apologized. He had tried a few times with his parents, but the moment the fight was over, they acted like it had never happened, so he had just started to get angry about that, too. How did they just talk, and forgive one another, so easily?

Stiles would give him a totally bizarre look, and when he spoke, it would be slow and guarded (as though he couldn’t tell if Jackson was honestly confused or if he was about to make fun of Stiles for being close with his dad) but he would go on to talk about how important communication was to the pair of them, and how they hit their breaking point after his mom died, and how they knew they were the only family they had left so they had to make it work, even when they didn’t want to.

Jackson would just stay silent as Stiles spoke, tugging the other male closer to his chest. He didn’t think he had any family left. But maybe it would be worth a shot. 

He is Jackson, though. He’s not Stiles. So he doesn’t try to worm his way into it, he doesn’t go for the coy tricks, he just comes outright with it and walks into the kitchen the next morning when his parents are making breakfast. 

“I want you both to meet my boyfriend. Properly. So I invited him to dinner on Friday night. He would probably demand pizza, but I’ll get him to compromise to pasta. Don’t...” and he would let out a long sigh as both of his parents stare at him, slack jawed in shock. “Don’t forget about it, okay? It’s important to me.”

And he would turn out of the kitchen and pretend he didn’t notice the dropped spatula or the twin looks of shock. 

Dinner would go as well as anyone would expect, meaning it’s awkward and stilted and there’s only a few jokes that actually makes anyone laugh. They have pasta and spumoni for dessert and Jackson kisses Stiles goodnight before he drives home (Jackson would be meeting him later, once his parents were both out, but that was not a part of the night he wanted to broadcast). When Stiles leaves, Jackson turns to them both, and it’s like three baby deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming train. 

“Well, he... he seems nice.” His mother would speak first, and it’s the kind of sentence in the kind of tone that would usually make Jackson bristle. He would be a half second away from snarling at them, telling them that it didn’t matter what they thought, to can their niceties and their fucking lies and—

and only then would he realize that her heartbeat didn’t stutter once. 

She genuinely thought he was nice. 

Somehow, that was the biggest shock of the evening.

“He is nice. He’s... way too nice. He’s great.” Jackson probably looks as shocked as they do as he speaks, and his father seems to take the momentum and run with it. 

“He seems like he really makes you happy. It’s a good thing, Jackson. It’s good to see you happy like that, I’m... glad.” and it’s another sentence that Jackson would have put money on being a lie, but just like his mother, his father wouldn’t have a heartbeat out of place. So Jackson would nod, and wish them a good night, and practically book it to his room to call Stiles before the shock wore off and he passed out. 

By the time he falls asleep, he can barely register his mom crying upstairs. He’s made her cry before, of course, but this is the first time that she seems happy about it. 

Nothing is perfect, though, and nothing good lasts forever. They would seem to be locked in a dance of two steps forward and one step back. They would have a few great nights and then a meltdown fight, and then his parents would ignore it and it would get even worse and it would feel like they were right back to square one. 

Now, though, he had Stiles in his corner, silently nudging him to “communicate, Jacks. God, do you know how hot communication is?” and no amount of growling could get Stiles to change his mind, so the day after their next blowup, Jackson would sit down in the kitchen and demand that they talk about it. And once they recovered and said “Jackson, we don’t have anything to talk about”, he would take a deep, calming breath like Stiles had taught him, and—

and he wouldn’t smell anything. There was no malice in the air, no anger in their emotions, nothing but some confusion between them and burning bacon. They both honestly, legitimately that the fact they had all been screaming at one another last night was magically forgotten because... what, they had gone to bed and woken up the next day?

Jackson would literally leave in a state of shock, and he’d approach Stiles immediately and “Stiles I was all fucking wrong about them oh god” and Stiles would be like “what, they’re actually great people? not likely” and Jackson would be like “what? no, they’re just a totally different kind of asshole. still not in a good way.” and Stiles would be like “Jackson there is literally no such thing as a person who is an asshole but in a good way” and Jackson would be like “uh, yeah there is, that’s you” and Stiles would laugh and punch him and then kiss him. ANYWAY.

It would be as much of a shock to his parents, honestly, that Jackson had Feelings that Didn’t Go Away and it would probably take Stiles sitting in on a dinner a month to moderate conversations in a healthy way. Which, of course, would be really weird for his parents at first (”Jackson, sweetheart, Stiles is nice but he’s a child, not a therapist” “mother if you don’t talk to him about these things in person I'll only give him my side later on”), but they would both latch on to Stiles like a lifeline the moment they realized that he was fluent in Jackson speak. 

(the first few explanations that Stiles gave they actually laughed at, like they thought it was a joke. but the minute they turned to Jackson, who was bright red and stone faced and unable to meet any of their eyes, they both sobered up so fast it gave Stiles whiplash. it was a little dramatic, but if it got through to them, Stiles was okay with it.)

that time that Jackson stole his dads truck? was to go practice lacrosse after dark on the school field, where he knew his Porsche would get stuck, because he thought if he got good enough to be captain again his parents would come to a game. that time that Jackson dumped Lydia out of the blue and demanded that they change the locks on the house? because he didn’t think he could trust the one person he had given his heart to at the time, but he couldn’t risk breaking that last tie between them, just in case. the time that Jackson had come back from the winter dance after dawn, with blood spatters all over his tuxedo? 

“Jesus, his best friend had almost died. Have some compassion, you assholes.”

Stiles looked as shocked as they were, but before he could apologize, Jackson was laughing.

It would be another few months before they were finally comfortable around one another. Not great, not by a long shot, but comfortable enough that Jackson’s parents knew they actually needed to take the first step in talking with their son, and Jackson would usually actually give them a complete answer.

it wasn’t perfect, and it might never be, but it was progress. and Jackson was happy enough with that. 

one night over dinner—Stiles and Jackson’s one year anniversary—his mom has a question. “okay, so wait, what did we do wrong when you started to shred your sheets?” she asks, and Jackson and Stiles look baffled, before waiting for her to elaborate. “you know, like a year ago, maybe a little more—right before you two started dating—I used to do the laundry and find Jackson’s sheets completely torn up. Well, no, not torn, because they were cut perfectly smooth. It was like you were hacking away at your bedspread with a pair of kitchen shears.”

Stiles chokes on his coke, putting two and two together, trying not to laugh at the mental image of brand new baby werewolf Jackson accidentally clawing at his sheets. Jackson just groans, his face bright red, head on the table.

[charlesoberonn]

Ms. Mailbox - Part 1

(This one turned out long so I’m splitting it up into parts. I’ll write the rest soon)

It all started when I busted up her mailbox. This isn’t a euphamism for sex, I mean it literally. I drove by with my buddy and smashed her mailbox with an aluminium baseball box.

That turned out to be a bad idea almost immediately. The bat was bent all out of shape, and my wrist was all mangled and sprained. The mailbox was bent too, but only barely. Overall an unproductive session of vandalism.

My friend drove me to the hospital right away. I remember thinking as I was waiting in agony about how awful everyone around me in the waiting room were. How much more deserving of treatment I was. I didn’t even think about what I did to bring this on myself.

After staying home for a couple of days, my parents finally scraped me off the living room couch and got me to go back to school, injured arm and all.That morning, I walked through the hall with a sour face and an armsling. When an athlete boy does it, his friends all support him, but I didn’t have friends in this school.

Before first period I was summoned to the principal’s office. He was a stern man, yet at the same time it seemed like all the life had been drained from him and he didn’t give a single fuck anymore. He told me that he knew how I got injured like this. It wouldn’t be my first act of “hooliganism” as he said, but he couldn’t prove it. So he assigned me somebody who’ll help take notes for me.

That’s when I noticed Ms. Mailbox waiting outside. She was a year younger than me, and quite a bit shorter, somebody who could easily escape notice if it wasn’t for her beautiful golden hair and her pretty doll face.

I didn’t know she was Ms. Mailbox at the time. I had no idea whose mailbox I smashed that day. But thinking about it now, I think she did know, even back at the principal’s office.

The principal gestured her forth and she went inside, quickly and politely sitting beside me. She turned to look at me and introduced herself with a smile. But there was something weird about that smile, it clashed with poorly concealed bags under her eyes.

She went to shake my hand with her right hand. Since my right hand was currently in a sling, I shook it with my left and we had an odd and unsymmetric handshake. Afterwards, the principal unceremoniously drove us out of his office. I was happy to leave.

I didn’t need to be introduced to Ms. Mailbox, I knew who she was and she. And she knew who I was. As we exited the office, a third girl was waiting for us. Taller than me, with blue highlights in her hair and an eyebrow piercing. With no warning, Ms. Mailbox and Bluebird kissed, right in front of me. I almost gagged and looked away in second-hand embarrassment. Though I don’t think there was any first-hand embarrassment in their embrace.

It was hard being one of only 3 out lesbians in the whole school. Even worse than 3 being such a small number, it’s an odd number, and I was the one left out without a date. Not that I liked any of them. In fact, in that moment I decided I hated them. Especially Ms. Mailbox. That hate wouldn’t last til the end of the day, as I would later find out.

She kept waving her girlfriend in a flirty way as we walked to my first class of the day. I just sighed under my breath. As if I wasn’t in enough pain already.

First period was fine, I didn’t have to do anything in terms of writing, but the teacher kept eyeing me to make sure I’m listening, which was a bit awkward. My eyes darted towards Ms. Mailbox, she worked fast. I figured she would just write stuff down and then give me a copy, but she actually wrote everything twice. First in her notebook, and then while everybody was still copying off the board, she copied off her own writing in my notebook. It was crazy.

I wanted to comment on it, but the teacher’s hawkish stare made me a bit scared to even open my mouth to yawn, so I just looked. After a while, the mesmerising sight of Ms. Mailbox’s quick and neat handwriting got me in some sort of daze. My eyes drifted upward to her face, her eyes which darted about the page, and her pink painted lips, which were slightly apart as she wrote, and closed again when she looked up.

Near the end of the class, she turned suddenly to look at me. Almost gave me a heart attack. I instinctively used my hand to hold the table, not remembering that it’s injured. I winced in pain. And the bitch giggled at me.

Later after class I told her I was impressed with her. Then I clarified I meant her handwriting after she gave me a long pause. She smiled, and I sheepishly smiled back and thanked her. Blegh.

The next period was gym, where she wouldn’t be of much use, but she insisted on coming along to help me anyway. I told her it was pointless, and she should go to her own class, but she told me back that she had no use of going to class anymore. I was perplexed, but I let it slide and let her come with me.

The gym coach told me that even though my arm was injured, I could still do some leg exercises. I bullshited to her something about my wrist being too hurt to move and got a full pass, though I’ve been warned that I would have to make up whatever exercises I missed. I scoffed. To my surprise, Ms. Mailbox scoffed with me.

We sat on the bleachers and watched the other girls play. I was bored. My phone had to be placed in the box when we entered the gym. I tried leaning on my healthy arm but couldn’t find a pose that didn’t get in the way of my sling.

“Here, you can lean on me.” I heard Ms. Mailbox offer me. I gave her a weird look and declined.

“What’s up with you?” I asked her, in an admitedly very impolite way.

“What do you mean? Can’t I offer a girl in need a place to rest her head?”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?”

“Yes? What? Ew, no. Not like that. Thank you very much.” she scoffed again. “I just want to be helpful.”

“You already are helpful.” I told her.

“Thanks.”

“Wasn’t a compliment, just stating a fact.” I leaned back and rolled my eyes.

“Facts can be compliments.”

“Do you want it to be a compliment?” I raised an eyebrow at her.

She paused. “Ew.”

We sat in silence a bit, I half heartedly glanced at the girls playing volleyball. It was almost hot, looking at their bodies bouncing up and down and getting sweaty. I would’ve been hot if they didn’t all suck at volleyball. Not like I could complain, though. I couldn’t even hit a mailbox right.

I yawned and leaned back a bit too far, my butt sliding off the narrow and slippery bleacher and I stumbled. I tried to grab at the next seat with my foot but I slid right under it, I was going down. But only until I was caught by a surprisingly sturdy grip from Ms. Mailbox, who grabbed at my armpit and helped me back up.

“Thanks.” I said, my voice a bit unstable from the jump the near-fall gave me.

“Is your arm alright?”

“What? Oh yeah.” I checked on it. She went to check on it as well, but I swatted her hand away. Gently.

“May I ask how you got it?”

“You may not.”

“Okay.” she seemed a bit disappointed.

I paused, thinking for a bit. My eyes were wandering again, down her face from her pretty blue eyes and slightly puffy cheeks.

“Only if you tell me why you don’t go to class.”

“Oh!” she perked up immediately. “Well...... I do study. Just not here. I study at university level.”

I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel immediately incompetent in comparison.

“University level?”

“I finished all high school exams last year, more or less. So they let me go to uni from Monday-Wednesday.”

“But until the academic school year starts you’re stuck here with the rest of us.”

“Very observant.”

“Thank you.” I paused again. “So like, do you have university friends and stuff?”

“What? Oh yeah, I do. Wanna see some pics?” she pulled out her phone. I immdiately went to hide it.

“Wait, not here.” I pointed to a loose seat that led to under the bleachers.

She nodded, and we quietly scooted over to it and down under. Ms. Mailbox helped me down the narrow hole by supporting my slinged arm.

It was cosy in there, the only light coming from screwless screwholes and her phone screen. She showed me pictures of her friends. Most of them seemed pretty boring. Dudes and dudettes in vest and glasses sitting in study halls and buried in their books or on the computers. Even more than people, she pictures of statues there, and trees, and the buildings themselves.

“Damn girl, did you take a pic of every branch on campus?” I whispered.

She giggled in response. “Only the interesting ones.”

We made sure to get back up and sit idly in place for when the coach came back to dismiss us and give us our phones back. Then we moved on to the next period laughing among ourselves at pictures of amateur student art projects that Ms. Mailbox took.

The rest of the day went smoothly. We mostly just talked, often during class, which pissed off the teachers but I found hilarious. To my surprise, Ms. Mailbox found it funny too. I didn’t know that at the time, but I was already rubbing off on her. We tried keeping our chats down low, but by the end of the day neither of us gave any fucks and we were talking quite loudly. Needless to say we were kicked out of the class.

As we were waiting outside the classroom for the bell to ring so we could take our bags and go home, Ms. Mailbox asked a question.

“Hey, how did you sprain your wrist? You said you would tell me.”

“I did.” I shifted a bit uncomfortably, becoming suddenly aware of the little to no distance between us.

“Was it as bad as the principal said?” she elaborated.

“Pretty much.” I answered naturally, as thought I’ve known her for years. I kind of regreted being so open a moment later, but at this point it was too late, I was already mid-answer. And I did sort of promised her. So I spilled the beans.

“Yeah, it was bad, I guess.” I soft-balled. “I smashed a mailbox with a baseball bat out of a moving vehicle. Thought the mailbox would break. Turns out I broke first.” I chuckled, trying to pass it off as a no-big-deal. Just a funny anecdote.

“I see.” was all Ms. Mailbox said.

There was a silence between us, and I felt a strange uncomfortable feeling I haven’t had since I was a child. I felt like I was being judged, and more than that, that I cared about the judgement.

“You s-” I wanted to make a snarky a remark, but just at that moment the bell rang.

We both hurried back into the class before the torrent of students spilled out of it. The teacher was the last to leave before us, and gave us a stink eye as she went out the door. It was just the two of us now.

The tension from before hadn’t gone away, in fact it was heavier.

“You’re not surprised?” I turned my head down. “You had me all figured out for a Bad Girl already, huh?” I tried picking up my backpack with my healthy arm, but getting it to stay on my back was a challenge. It was kind of ruining the cool apathetic vibe I was going for.

Ms. Mailbox put on her backpack and reached up help me. She put on the straps on my shoulders with efficiency and gentleness. I could swear I felt her rub my shoulderblades a bit as she did.

“No, that’s not it. I just deduced that’s what you did.” she explained.

“Deduced?” I asked like a clueless idiot.

“Yeah.” she walked out of the classroom and looked back at me with a pair of beautiful eyes. “It was my mailbox you smashed.”

With that, Ms. Mailbox became Ms. Mailbox. And the seeds of something between us were starting to sprout.

[allthethingamabobs]

family sticks together, bruh

Notes: I was re-watching the Bay-verse movies and suddenly got irritated at the no last name thing at the end of the second one. April O'Neil was right there. Their ride-or-die, their badass older sister, their hogosha. So here's my first contribution to the TMNT fandom. I literally wrote this in half a day, so if you see any writing errors all I gotta say is...my bad. Enjoy the found family fluff!

Rating: G

Also on AO3.

April figured it all started with a package hastily stuffed in her mailbox. It was barely small enough to fit, wrapped in that tough paper-cardboard material, and took a few careful pulls to get out. She couldn’t recall ordering anything recently, so the least she could do was try not to destroy what was most likely her neighbor’s mail. But when she flipped it over for the addressee, she was surprised to see “Mikey O’Neil” on it.

April and her “childhood pets” had been reunited four months back now, and it continued to throw her life upside down. A happy upside down, though. Those two names together were doing a number on the loner habits she’d built up since her father’s death. Apparently, all it took was four mutant teenagers and their father to start breaking down those walls.

She snapped a photo of the package and sent it to Mikey as she walked up to her apartment. Her phone lit up with a video chat request seconds later. The boys were just like any other teens when there weren’t bad guys to fight—they loved texting (on their one-of-a-kind turtle phones), sending her snaps, and video chatting whenever they could. April supposed that 15 years alone in a sewer could make one a little starved for new attention, and she was always happy to talk.

One of Mikey’s eyes filled the screen first, and then his grinning face when he pulled back. “You got it!” he hollered.

There was a thump from somewhere behind him, and Leo yelled something about peace and quiet when meditating. Then all she could see was a blurry carapace as Mikey quickly escaped to some other part of the lair. “You got it!” he cheered again, down to a whisper-yell.

“Sure did,” she answered with a smile, while making sure her apartment door locked behind her. “A little heads up would be nice, though. People do steal packages.”

“Man, that would’ve been no bueno. It has my name on it and everything.”

She shrugged—it was New York, what could she say. “About that… Mikey O’Neil, huh?”

He brightened. “Yeah! Makes sense, right? You’ve always been family even if we got separated for like, way too long, and who wouldn’t want to be a badass O’Neil?”

“Hm.” Her smile was fond even as she bit her lip to keep herself from doing something dramatic like tearing up. “You make some excellent points.”

Mikey nodded, seemingly proud of his reasoning. “You get me, April. So when are you gonna come hang out?”

“Not until tomorrow at least.” She set the phone on the counter as she turned to mess with the oven dials. “I’ve got to eat, and then a grimy bathroom and donation boxes are calling my name.”

Two weeks ago, a great aunt she hadn’t talked to since her father’s funeral had passed away and apparently left her succession rights to a New York miracle: a rent-controlled apartment above a quiet antique store. It was a dated unit and still smelled a bit like old people, but she was making it work.

A whine came from her phone. “Aw, shell… Oh, hey! We could help! Four mutants and a human are better than one!”

“That’s sweet, Mikey, but I’ve got this.” Plus, she was starting to pick up the brother’s dynamics. That visit would devolve into complete chaos in no time, given the cluttered mess. There were a lot of breakable objects she was still in the process of either packing up or donating.

“Your loss, Ape. Guess we’ll see you tomorrow.” He got up close to the camera again and whispered dramatically, “You’ll bring the package, right?”

She snorted and leaned over so he could see her face. “Pinky swear.”

“I don’t have a pinky, so I’ll have to believe you. Bye, April!”

The screen went blank, and April had a glimpse of herself in the reflection. She had to admit… her smile looked a lot more genuine these days.

In work news, however, life had been a lot of sucking up to Bernadette and the team after getting her job back, so she didn’t get down to the lair until late in the evening. Entering through the water system wasn’t exactly ideal, so they’d built a biometric, heavily enforced door as an alternative. Leo spotted her first as she shoved her way in and waved from where he was cleaning his katanas.

The new lair seemed to change every time she visited—more light-up signs or beat-up furniture appearing—and she still felt a little guilty for being the reason behind the move. The guys had assured her that they didn’t blame her, and they were having fun with the tall ceilings and tunnels in the new space. Splinter had even claimed one to start a bonsai garden.

“Hey, April! How was your day?” Leo called, carefully setting his weapons aside to get up.

“Not too bad, mostly research on some detox craze—”

“April!?” There was a crash from the back where they had set up a gym area in an upper opening. Mikey came tumbling out, almost right on top of where Raph was exiting the lower tunnel, and he gracefully avoided retaliation. “You got the goods?”

Leo shot her a confused frown, and she answered with a fond “don’t ask” look before rummaging in her bag to pull it out. “Yes, Mikey, I have the goods.”

Mikey bounced over and pulled her into a quick, bone-crushing hug before taking the package out of her hands. He ripped into it and pulled out a gaudy gold chain that looked like it once belonged in a 2000’s music video.

“Bling, bling!” he crowed and threw the shell necklace off to be replaced.

“Wait a minute, is that what was so important you had to order it?” Donnie said as he and Raph joined the group. “That’s such a waste of money!”

“Some ninja you are,” Raph snorted. “You can see that ugly-ass chain from a mile away.”

Leo hummed at that and then frowned. “Mikey, did you even ask April if you could send that to her place before you ordered it?”

Said turtle shrugged. “I knew she wouldn’t mind.”

The others seemed to erupt at once.

“Except it’s an unknown package being sent to her place, especially with the Foot Clan knowing her association with us—”

“Even worse, it’s inconsiderate to just assume—”

“Even worse, Leo? What kind of bullshit is that—”

April was an only child (well, not so much anymore), so she wasn’t used to how quickly one small thing could turn into a full blown argument. If pushing got involved, then 6-foot mutant turtles or not, she would break up that fight—yup, there’s the shoving.

“Guys, GUYS!” April moved forward and intercepted the beginning of whatever as they all avoided bumping into her. “It’s fine. You can have stuff sent to my place, I don’t care. As long as I can get it down here.”

It took a little more convincing to assure them that no, they were not imposing on her, and then they seemed excited about this new opportunity. Apparently, they’d had to scout out addresses before and sneak the package away before the occupants realized. Obviously, this was much more convenient.

Steadily, they all started to order stuff online (with what money or credit card she had no idea) and have it sent to her place. Parts for Donnie, books for Leo, and though she only felt it through the packaging, yarn for Raph. At first, Mikey was the only one who used O’Neil for the address. Then something changed, and they all started to use it too. A package of tea addressed to Splinter O’Neil gave her a small laugh one day. Raph had been the last to address himself as O’Neil, always so stubborn, and seemed almost shy when she delivered it.

April knew she was very biased on this, having seen them as teeny-tiny babies, but her little-big brothers could be pretty adorable sometimes.

---

The last name thing had come up with Splinter one day as they sat in his quiet bonsai garden, enjoying some tea while the boys burned off energy around the rest of the lair.

“I don’t want to overstep any boundaries or anything, but I’ll admit it’s… nice. My dad was really all I had for family, so it was just us and then me for so long. It’s almost like this has all… I don’t know, come full-circle? If that makes sense?”

Splinter smiled and reached out to lay his hand on hers.

“I was not lying when I said I modeled my parenting after your father. One way or another, you both cared for this family, and you know we consider you a part of it.” April nodded, a little choked up, and grasped his hand. He’d said it himself, but she wasn’t ready to fully relive how Splinter felt so familiar, so comforting.

“Besides,” he continued with a chuckle. “Michelangelo has quite enjoyed having a last name, and I think the others were a bit hesitant before they saw that you didn’t mind.”

“Of course not, I’m all for it,” April laughed, wiping under her eyes. “Now there’s more than just me to make the O’Neil name proud.”

---

One other thing she had discovered about being a big sister to four trouble-prone teens: full names were extremely effective.

“Donatello O’Neil!” she shouted the second she stepped into the lair, and all movement ceased. Leo balanced on one foot, mid-throw, Raph was mid-swing across the lair, and Mikey had an orange soda titled towards his face, where it slowly dripped down his front.

A weak “Oh, shell” came from the direction of the lab, and she stormed over. A taunt from Mikey followed but was quickly cut off with a grunt. Donnie was hunched over his desk, head turned slightly to look up at April’s furious approach.

“Why the hell did I just find a tracker in not one but all of my jackets?” She reached into her pocket, grasped the tiny devices, and tossed them on the desk. “I almost had a panic attack thinking I was being tracked by someone else. You know that’s been one of my worst fears ever since the Shredder, and we’ve talked about privacy and emergency plans, Donnie. I have a panic button on my phone, and I gave you permission to track it when absolutely necessary.” She let out a frustrated huff, pointing at the trackers. “What. Are. These?”

He’d sputtered a bit and avoided her eyes as she spoke, but he finally looked up when she stood silent, waiting for an answer. His shoulders drooped, and he wheeled back from his desk to face her. Even sitting, Donnie was only slightly shorter than her.

“Contingency plan,” he finally bit out. “Phones are most likely the first thing a kidnapper would get rid of to avoid tracking.”

“Wh— kidnapper?” That caught her off guard, and the tension in her shoulders released a little. Was there a new danger she didn’t know about? “But who… Oh.”

Movement on his tablet drew her eye, and the footage there followed a shady van that looked very familiar.

The Foot Clan—because an organization that big could still survive with their leader in jail for a year now—had disabled her turtle-approved security system and ransacked her apartment a couple of weeks ago. The cameras from across the street told them that and how the intruders had missed April coming home by a mere 12 minutes. They had obviously been searching for something specific, and she eventually realized it must have been the box of notes from Project Renaissance. Luckily, they had been stored in the lair for safe keeping.

After coming home to that mess, April called Donnie right away and started packing up her necessities. All four of the turtles had met her at her usual sewer entrance, and they formed a tense detail on the trip back. She worked out-of-office that week as she laid low in the lair and waited for the all-clear while they doubled up her apartment’s security. Splinter and the boys were good about giving her space when she was working, but she could still feel the hovering and worry. The guys had been in and out more often, Splinter always had some tea ready for her, and she just knew there had been many hushed conversations out of earshot.

Sure, deadly henchmen being in her apartment had freaked her out, but it had really freaked out her new family. April held her own against all of the weird shit they got dragged into, but there were always reminders that she did not have a shell or ninja training; a sprained ankle, one small concussion, too many bruises to remember, and even a few less inches of hair when it got singed in an explosion.

She looked between the tablet and Donnie, but now he held his gaze steady. “The Foot know where you live, and you refuse to move. This was the best way for us to always be there when you need us.” His voice was even, calculated, but his hands were clasped tightly and one foot tapped insistently.

Oh, her sweet, overprotective boys. Under all that bullet-proof shell, they were all just teenagers who had five people in the world to call family, and they did not take that for granted.

April sighed and turned to sit against the desk, holding out one hand. Donnie took it and held on, grip tight. “It comes from a good place, Donnie, but you have to tell me about these things. Trust goes both ways, okay?”

Leo, Raph, and Mikey were hovering around the entrance to the lab, and she gave them all a stern look to reiterate her point. “I know I don’t have a shell, but I am scrappy, stubborn, and awesome at running in heels.”

“Way better than the Jurassic World chick,” Mikey piped up, and Raph lightly punched his arm.

“You’re damn right,” April answered, smiling at his effort to lighten the mood. “So I appreciate the worry, guys, but you need to talk to me. I worry, too. You might forget, but you’re not invincible.”

“Better off than you,” Raph grunted. This time Mikey punched him, not as lightly. “What, it’s true!”

April sighed. “Come on, Raph, you know muscle isn’t everything.”

“No,” he grumbled, “but you got us. Whether or not you like it, we can take the hard hits.”

“What he means to say,” Leo said, shoving Raph back with his shoulder, “is that we were worried, and we didn’t think you were taking the threat seriously enough.” Donnie’s hand gripped hers a little harder, and she looked back to see him nod in agreement. “We are sorry about the secrecy, though.”

April sighed. “Fair point. You know I love you guys,” they perked up at that, “but having back-up is kind of a new thing for me. It’s habit to go solo, and it’s habit for you four to be a team.”

She held out her other hand. Leo was closest, and he took it with some hesitation. “Still a learning process all around.”

Mikey eagerly grasped Leo’s other hand and then Raph’s, refusing to let go even as Raph gave a shake, so they were all joined. “Family sticks together, bruh.”

---

The O’Neils had been a thing for awhile now, but writing it down was very different to actually saying it outloud. Mikey had no trouble claiming his new last name, and had even dubbed some pizza monstrosity he concocted from as many toppings he could get as the “O’Neil Special.” For the others, it took some time to say it—at least when she was around to hear.

Eight months. Donnie had been talking a mile a minute about a phone meeting set up with an award-winning engineer currently teaching at NYU. He’d been given 30 minutes to ask her all the questions he wanted. April had kind of bullied Vern into setting it up with his new connections, and Donnie had asked her to be there for moral support. She assured him it was all going to go great and to just make the call already. His shoulders went rigid under her hands when the call connected. “Hi! Hello, uh, this is Donatello O’Neil, I got your number from Vern? The Falcon?” She squeezed his shoulders in comfort, grinning proudly for many reasons.

One year and 2 months. Raph had been playing a one-on-one basketball game with Donnie while April refereed. Even as the self-proclaimed muscles, Raph was agile, and he did a quick maneuver around Donnie to score a perfect 3-pointer. “And Raph O’Neil makes the shot!” he whooped, doing a quick victory dance. He didn’t seem to realize it, but April certainly did. She felt warm and fuzzy after that, so she let him get away with traveling a couple minutes later.

For Leo, it just hadn’t come up yet. Although, one day she’d been stress cleaning their mess of a kitchen, and opened one beat-up book in curiosity to see “Leonardo O’Neil” neatly written on the cover page. That was enough for her.

Then her amazing family had finally gotten the acknowledgement they so rightly deserved.

“To you, brothers. Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo.” Chief Vincent paused. “Last name?”

The guys all glanced her way, and April didn’t care if her eyes were a little watery at Leo’s answer. “O’Neil.”

[mundanewayv]

my neighbour is an alien. / hendery w.

2k neighbour au! requests for wayv are open so pop-by if you wish~ this is literally how i envision neighbour! hendery to be.

your neighbour was quite an alien. not exactly UFO-looking, in fact, he was rather a charmer; so much that the old ladies down the exercise corner swoons over him, talking about how he looks like some certain prince or male lead from their soap operas. he was the kind of neighbour that puts his name, which you learnt was Hendery, clear and big on his house door.

you could tell how he was about the same age from the way he decorated his balcony. he had those artificial carpet grass, a darts board that hung loosely from a poorly-positioned nail on the wall and somehow, an awfully mismatched pink flamingo was there amongst his decorations.

it's not like the both of you haven't met or spoke to each before. it was just that both your frequencies were a little different. when you were busy reading a book or doing some assignments, hendery would be doing some sort of karaoke practice with his speakers amped up to a maximum or if you were tending to your mini garden, he would be laying on his artificial grass, having a mini sun-tan session.

the awkward part came when your mails got mixed up. it was a common occurrence if you had neighbours like hendery; those who were too damn lazy to clear out the clutter in his mailbox but enjoys the lavish online shopping lifestyle.

some odd-shaped, sturdy, twirly-wirly object appeared in your mailbox one day and stuck onto its wrapper was the address sticker clearly written with your neighbour's name on it. there wasn't much of a corridor space so it took less than 3 steps before you were ringing doorbell. you stood there, examining the parcel as you waited for him to open the door.

"hey neighbour, what's up?" he greets you cheerfully from behind the door frame.

"your mail was in my mailbox." you passed him the parcel and he reaches out carefully to retrieve it. he takes a look at it, probably as confused as you were about what he bought and a bell seemed to have rung in his head and he swings his door open fully this time, exposing only a towel wrapped around his torso.

"wicked! the hamster slides are here!" hendery celebrates excitedly.

"what's taking you so long, hendery. the water's getting cold." another male emerges, also only with a towel around his torso and his arms crossed.

"ten, the hamster slides are here!" he turns around to show them to the other male. however, ten just waves him off and tells him he's going to add the bubbles.

"was i interrupting something?" you asked, when he was busy looking at the pink and green hamster slides.

"ah, no. of course not! you can join us if you want." your eyes widened at his offer, slightly shocked about how adventurous your neighbour was.

"you know what hendery, i think i'll just go back and feed my cat or something." you slowly inched backwards to your apartment.

"hey, i didn't get your name yet." he said, sounding a bit disappointed with your decline.

"uh, y/n would do." and you have never zoomed so quickly back into your house before.

the next time the both you met was the following morning, when you went out for your morning run. it seemed like ten stayed over considering how he and hendery were having a mini walkathon competition with the old ladies; their sportsbands secured around their heads and their arms close to their sides as their feet busied themselves. hendery spots you as you walked out of the apartment complex,

"hey y/n, taking your cat out for a walk?" hendery calls out to you. right. the imaginary cat that saved you from the adventures of the two male before you.

"nah, it ran away from home yesterday." you replied curtly and waved before going for your run.

a run alone gave you time to unwind and not put anyone against yourself unlike the rat race of your office. a familiar face appears in your periphery vision, pink sports band and white trainers as he picks up his pace to match yours. hendery gestured to you to take off a side of your headphones.

"slow down a little. i can't breathe,"

"to clear things up, me and ten didn't do anything yesterday. he came over to try the new hot tub i installed at home. right, ten?"

"yup." ten breathed out as he tried to get as much oxygen as possible whilst catching up with hendery.

"it's really good though. you should try it sometimes." he jogs in front of you, stopping you in your position.

"that's nice, hendery. thank you." you were genuinely touched, because your alien of a neighbour turned out to be the nicest person you ever knew.

both you and hendery became closer after that day. yes, you did try his hot tub as he asked you to and he even left the whole tub to you because he didn't want you to feel awkward so he sat on a chair by the tub and chatted with you. you would help feed and take his pesky golden pomeranian out for walks while he was out of town (which was quite a bore because hendery's absence was like an elephant in the room). he would even wait for you at the subway so the both of you could walk back to the apartment together because it wasn't safe to be alone at night.

you found yourself missing hendery when he was back in macau to visit his family at the year end. the pink flamingo decoration stood lonely as it awaited for its owner to come home. he even brought his noisy golden pomeranian with him. usual mornings with him around would be you trying to pass cookies or sandwiches over to the other side with a butterfly net. life surprisingly became mundane; your runs got lonely and you were welcomed by the quiet and dim apartment next to yours when you came home.

that separation from your neighbour, whom you suddenly got the chance to get close to, gave you a chance to ponder over a glass of wine. nobody knew what direction this relationship was moving towards. both of you enjoyed each other's company but at the same time, appreciated the 3 steps corridor distance separating the both of you. hendery is a nice guy, a little bit eccentric while you were more serious. a mutual friendship was more like it, the type where the both of you would come together and act as a couple to get a couples discount at that french restaurant down the street on valentine's day.

after a few weeks, you find postcards from hendery, saying how he misses his hot tub and the weather in macau was either too sweltering hot or had too many passing showers to sun-tan under and he missed playing mini golf on his artificial grass. and most importantly, he missed you and ten the most. occasionally, the mail man messes up the parcels again and you drop hendery a message about them but he insists they were for you. he sent you all kinds of things from giant clothing hangers to mini fruit juice blenders, he claims that he thought of you while he was shopping online in macau and since they were on discount, why not?

your apartment granted you a city view despite its tiny space: which made new years’ day even more special. you could see the fireworks and the city skyline while sitting in your balcony. you were looking forward to spending your first new years’ with your brand new friend but news came in that he was staying till chinese new year. as the fireworks decorated the sky, you took a picture of it, sending it to hendery,

“i miss you so much.” you sent a text bubble accompanying the picture. you took a deep sigh, ready to just end your lonely day and retreating back to your room when your notification bell chimed.

“i miss you too.” he replied, with a picture of his dinner attached. it probably wasn’t new year’s yet where he was.

you left for work early and came home late, since there wasn’t much to look forward to. you ate out more often and focused on reading and working. as you were climbing up the stairs, you noticed the addition of a string of fairy lights lit up in the corridor between you and hendery’s house. that wasn’t there in the morning, you thought to yourself. and when you climb a little more, you saw the neighbour who you’d missed so dearly, a brown scarf wrapped around his neck and his gloved hands holding onto a bouquet of pink flowers and his pomeranian. the barks of his pet felt like life has been restored into you because you knew he was home.

“hendery!” you jumped gleefully and gave him a hug.

“woah! you’re going to squish my dog like that.” he chuckles, passing you the bouquet of flowers.

“come in, i want to show you something.” hendery invites you into his apartment and you trailed behind him. seems like he had unpacked before you arrived with the additions of new gadgets and trinkets around the house. he leads you to his balcony where he placed chairs for the both of you by a giant telescope.

“tadah!” he flaunts his equipment like a little boy with a brand new toy.

“apparently, there’s going to be a meteor shower tonight, and if you’re lucky, you might see a flying saucer or ET on his bike.” he says excitedly, getting you comfortable with a blanket across your lap and a mug of hot chocolate.

both of you waited while catching up on each other for the past few months. you told hendery about how a new kid had moved in to the house down the lobby and he told you about how he ended up in the emergency room after eating too much during the festivities.

“it’s here! look look!” he pulls you to look into the telescope and burst of lights sprinkled the skies like glitter.

“quick y/n! make a wish!” hendery clasps his hands tightly and his eyes shut tight, wishing hard. you copied him and searched deep for a wish you desperately wanted to come through.

“so what did you wish for y/n?” he asked.

“i wished for us to be together forever. as neighbours or best friends or something else.” you told him as you watched the sparkle in his eyes as he watch you speak.

“how about you?”

“well,” he rubs his nape sheepishly, taints of pink and red on his cheeks,

“i wished that i can be more than just your best friend. not right away, of course. but soon. hopefully.” hendery confessed, his hands moving to cover his blushing face bashfully. you peeled his hand covering his face and held it in yours, both of you basking in the magical atmosphere, a mark of something new.

“do you think aliens fall in love with their neighbours too or do they just fly around in their saucers?” hendery asked, giggling and playing with your fingers in his hands.

[valkyriesryde]

Hella Feelings {8/?}

Chapter 8: Bruises ~ Chairlift

Pairings: Bucky x OC; Sam x OC

A/N: Chapter six with @stuckonjbbarnes​ bless up my lads

Warnings: language, awkward encounters, a little bit of flirting, secondhand embarrassment probably

Word Count: 2555

Previous Chapter ~ Masterlist

~~~~~~~

Holly walks into the apartment with her tail between her legs and her feet dragging on the ground. In the kitchen Vanessa’s movements are slow and she’s definitely feeling hungover and like an idiot.

"Where have you been? I thought you were in bed..” Vanessa asks, looking up from where she’s cleaning the stove, ”I made breakfast for you...it’s in the microwave."

Holly throws up her hands and chucks her shoes on the floor, "I SLEPT WITH SAM! FUCK MY LIFE! RUINED EVERYTHING, LIFE SUCKS!” She yells turning the microwave on and sitting on the floor of the kitchen.

“BITCH SAME BECAUSE I TRIED TO GIVE BUCKY MY PAJAMAS AND HE DOESN’T EVEN LIKE ME!” Holly accepts the comment even though she’s slightly confused because it’s literally what their lives have become after these boys walked into their lives. She gets her food from the microwave because at least she’s got that going for her and gets back onto the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Vanessa asks staring at Holly shoveling scrambled eggs into her mouth.

“Living my worst life, what about you?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bucky walks into the apartment to find Sam watching tv with his hood up and they kind of look at each other expectantly.

“Last night was great!" Bucky says in the same breath that Sam groans, "Last night was a shitshow."

“I dunno man...she’s funny and she wanted me to kiss her.” Bucky shrugs, plopping onto the couch.

“YOU MORON. TELL ME YOU KISSED HER.”

“I couldn’t take advantage of her like that...I want her to actually want it.”

“YOU REALLY ARE A DUMBASS.”

“Well...did you kiss Holly?” Bucky asks, trying to change the subject...because maybe she did want it last night?

”Like I said man...I made that ass mine.” Sam kind of pauses and then adds,"...and then she snuck out this morning."

"DUDE NO!" Bucky tries not to laugh.

“Yeah…”

“ISN’T THAT YOUR MOVE?” He finally settles on a smirk and Sam stands up from his seat ready to go back to bed and sleep for the rest of the day.

“I may be hungover but I’ll kick your ass.”

"I really thought you two would get together first, anyway, want to help me plan how I'm going to ask Vanessa out?"

Sam sighs and sits back down. “Fine.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Holly are you ready to go yet?” Vanessa is pacing by the door, trying to justify running to the elevator.

“Yes, now if we leave now... we have a ten minute leeway to avoid the guys okay? Okay.” Holly checks her watch before pulling her bag onto her shoulders and siking herself up. “Just stick to the plan. We get in and we get out and if we have to sprint??”

“WE SPRINT.” Vanessa yells back, darting out the door and to the elevator.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Bucky I swear to god we have to leave now! I’m not facing Holly today!” Bucky stumbles out of his room pulling on his shirt because Sam woke him up way too early with his dramatic ass.

“You should just talk to her.” He says looking blindly around the room for his bag and wallet.

“Say one more word on the matter and I’ll tip your coffee down the sink.” Sam threatens from the kitchen.

“You monster.” Bucky whines but doesn’t say anything else, snatching the cup.

The pair head to the elevator and wait. The doors open and Bucky chokes on his coffee a bit because Vanessa and Holly are standing in the elevator and holy shit this is incredible. Bucky is having a field day. He can tell that Sam has half a thought to run down the stairs and Holly is staring very intently at the buttons.

“So how was everyone’s weekend?” Bucky asks happily, once he’s sure that Sam isn’t going to bolt and the doors shut.

“Interesting.” Holly mumbles and Vanessa stares at Holly like she’s crazy but also wait, her and Bucky? Bucky is smiling at her? DOES BUCKY LIKE HOLLY?

Sam is finally like, “What about you Vanessa?”

“It was okay, I guess.” She breaks out of her thoughts and looks at Sam, straightfaced...fuck everyone, I wanna go back to bed.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow, he had a good weekend, he thought she had a good weekend too. Damn alcohol, I can't trust it anymore. So he puts asking her out to the back of his mind for the time being.

Once they clear the elevator, Vanessa reaches to grab Holly’s hand, to make their escape, but accidentally grabs Bucky’s hand instead. She pauses for a second wide eyed, looking down and drops it like a hot potato. Then finds Holly’s arm and drags her out of the building. Meanwhile Holly and Sam are staring at everything BUT each other because oh god what is the other person thinking???

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sam has officially given up today, he’s so tired, he’s sad, he just wants to go home and play video games. He walks in the foyer of the building and catches a glimpse of a familiar body closing the stairway door. He’d know that ass anywhere.

“Holly!” He runs up the stairs and stops abruptly when she stops at the first floor.

“Sam.” She just wants to run away, she just wanted to go to bed and play video games for the rest of the day, why him? Why now?

“Are we going to talk about this weekend?” Sam walks up the last couple steps slowly until he reaches the landing. “Because I thought I made it pretty clear that I like you.”

Holly shrugs, "We were drunk. Drunk feelings aren't real feelings..."

"What kind of backward bullshit is that????" He’s a little peeved because that’s a bullshit excuse what does that even mean?

"Oh so you actually want to date me?"

"Yes I want to date you!"

"Then date me!"

"Done!"

“FINE” both storm off, Sam back down the stairs because he’s going to use the stupid elevator and Holly up the stairs.

Holly gets up to the apartment and walks in, seeing Vanessa reading about the Hillside Strangler.

"I think I'm dating Sam? Not sure though, more to come,'' she's so nonchalant about it but Vanessa tosses the book down, not in the mood for killers, not in the mood for really anything, except this, this is new and exciting.

“OH It’s about time! Look at you two...getting all serious.” She wiggles her eyebrows and Holly shrugs before going to her room. She’s happy for Holly but also in the back of her head, she’s like oh no, BUCKY IS GONNA BE CRUSHED. But also mwhahahaha Bucky is gonna be crushed, I should tell him because if she can’t be happy then he can’t be happy either.

So Vanessa grabs her phone, not bothering to read any of the messages Bucky had tried to send her and taps out a message.

Then she scrolls to a text from Steve who asks if she wants to hang out. Fuck it, Steve’s fun… we’re gonna go to Central Park and people watch. She sends a quick text and they meet up on 5th Avenue to pick up coffee before they go.

Bucky walks in on Sam mumbling about "gonna take her on the best fucking date she's ever been on" while he’s scrolling through his phone. He looks at his phone and sees a text from the only person that matters, Nessa: Holly and Sam are dating 🎉

“OH SO YOU’re dating now?!” Bucky yells at Sam.

He can’t even figure out why the girl he likes was ghosting him...and then she texts him just to tell him that? He decides enough is enough. It's been a week of hot and cold with her...well mostly luke-warm. Bucky goes to the girls’ apartment and knocks, almost punching Holly when she swings the door open unexpectedly.

“GOD BUCKET! You almost hit me!” She glares and he gives her an apologetic look.

“Is Nessa around?” He asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know...weather boy.” Holly smiles sweetly. “She’s out...if you must know.”

“Do you know where?”

“I’m not telling. GIRL. CODE.” She laughs, shutting the door in his face...okay guess I gotta go find MY GIRL.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Movies? You’re taking me to the movies?” Holly stares at Sam who is currently holding the passenger door of his car open for her with an unsatisfied look.

“And dinner.” He nods proudly.

“Our first date is fucking dinner and a movie? Sam what the hell!” Sam reaches out and grabs her hand, pulling her closer to him and gives her a smirk that makes her think that maybe she’s missing something.

“Believe you me baby, you’re going to want to see this movie.”

They’re sitting at an ice cream parlor after the movie, both with their own cups, Holly refuses to use a cone currently. Sam laughs and nods along with Holly who hasn’t shut up since walking out.

“Does he know?”

“Not yet” he snickers, finishing his ice cream.

“You’re friends with the wrong one! There’s a Steve look-alike out there who is FAMOUS and you’re stuck with him!”

Sam chuckles and nods his head, he is definitely going to be telling Steve about his doppelganger in the new blockbuster Knives Out.

It’s a couple hours later and neither Sam nor Holly can find it in themselves to end the night. They’re sitting on the stairs of their building watching the cars go past with Sam’s hand on her thigh when he breaks the comfortable silence between them.

“What’s going on with Nessie? Bucky said they had a good night at Steve’s but now she’s not talking to him.” Holly shrugs, it’s not her place to say she thinks but she also just wants her friend to be happy.

"She a dumb clown.” She deadpans, “Bucky needs to make a move because she won’t."

Sam scoffs and pulls Holly closer to him, he kind of wants to kiss her but it’s probably not the best time.

“Like that’ll happen.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Vanessa is headed back down 5th Avenue, casually looking in the storefronts, when she walks straight into a man. He steadies her, holding her arms lightly and apologizing and she looks up, catching the apology a little too late. Because she’s floating in this guy’s eyes.

“I’m so sorry –Vanessa?” They say at the same time and both smile a little, remembering a very similar version of this by the mailboxes.

“D-do you wanna go for a walk?” Bucky asks and Vanessa wishes she could just *poof* out of there.

Her head and her heart are in full battle mode and she finally just shrugs and turns the way she came, walking back towards the park with Bucky. They’re both quiet and just sort of walking down the paths, until he finally asks “How’ve you been? It’s been a minute.”

“I’m fine. You?” She throws back, stuffing her hands into her back pockets.

“Are you okay? Truly?” Bucky is concerned because where’s the friendly weirdo he knew a week ago?

“I’m fine, James.” She says with a little venom, adding “What about you? Are you okay?! Now that your best friend is dating Holly? Or maybe you're fine and seeing someone else already.”

“Uhh, last I checked I wasn’t seeing anyone and of course I’m okay?” then it hits him. “Wait, you think I like Holly? Holly? Your best friend Holly? Why would I go after Sam’s girl? She’s not even my type! She’s–”

“HEY I LIKE YOU...OKAY?!” Vanessa stops in her tracks, eyes burning because he won’t shut up about Holly.

“What?” Bucky stops short, wondering if he heard her correctly. Nessa stomps up to him, less than a foot away and jabs his chest with each word.

“I. Like. YOU.”

Bucky can’t believe his ears and he watches the way she crosses her arms, pouting. He can’t resist grumpy Vanessa and he reaches out and holds her arms and is like “Calm down, killer. I like you too.”

“But you didn’t KISS me the night of Steve’s party.” Vanessa stares at him, squinting her eyes and he can’t help but roll his eyes both at her absurdity and his dumbass choices.

“You were drunk...I would never have forgiven myself for taking advantage.”  Nessa moves about half a step closer, causing Bucky to move his hands around her waist and she half yells “THAT’S NOT AN EXCUSE BARNES.”

“DO YOU WANT ME TO KISS YOU NOW?!” He yells back, matching her tone and before she can answer, he pulls her flush against his body. Their lips crash together and holy shit Vanessa nearly swoons cause his lips are so much softer than she expected. But she breaks the kiss before they can get carried away because this is a very public park. Bucky kind of pouts and she gives him a quick peck, smiling.

“Hold my hand, Barndoor.” She thrusts her hand at him and he just laughs, grasping her hand and pulling her into him.

“Barndoor?”

“I know...I’m getting rusty.” Nessa groans as they head back downtown.

“Look at us…” Bucky doesn’t respond as he’s sure he’s dreaming right now.

“HEY! Look at US!” Vanessa repeats and he finally looks down at her, eyes sparkling.

“Who woulda thought?” he asks, wanting to kiss her again because shit she’s just so perfect.

“NOT ME”  Vanessa yells, catching the eye of some tourists.

They head down the familiar streets towards the apartment and Bucky is like “So are we good? What is this... are we dating?”

“You’re stuck now James Dean. You have a whole ass girlfriend.” As they get towards the building, they see Sam and Holly and Nessa pulls her hand out of his.

“We can’t tell them...not yet.”

“They’re never gonna get over this.” Bucky warns but Vanessa gives him a megawatt smile and he can’t say no to that face.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Holly leaps out of Sam’s grasp and off the step as soon as she sees Vanessa and Bucky walking towards them and runs up to with a wicked grin. Sam feels a chill as soon as she leaves him but he smiles watching her so excited as she approaches their friends.

“You’re NEVER going to believe who we saw on the big screen!”

“What are you talking about?” Nessa laughs sitting below Holly.

“Actors?” Bucky chimes in, sitting a step below Sam but angling himself towards the trio.

“My new favourite actor Buck and he’s about to be yours too.”

Sam pulls out his phone and opens a photo before turning the screen to Bucky who looks at it confused, “that’s a picture of Steve.”

“BUT IT’S NOT!” Holly yells and Sam laughs.

“Wait..let me see.” Vanessa swipes the phone, squinting at the screen. “No way! Steve looks like Chris... Evans?! He should be an impersonator...on looks alone.” She giggles handing the phone back.

“I think Steve makes enough buck owning his own successful business but...like...I’d pay to see them in the same room.”

“If you were friends with Chris Evans you could get him to pay.”

“Or just get Bucky’s black card to do it.” Sam suggests and Bucky punches his shin.

“Bucky has a black card?!” Holly cries, completely shook.

~~~~~~~

Taglist (open): @cant-decide-at-this-moment @rinthehufflepuff @buckysmischief @sebbbystaaan @supraveng @hopingforbarnes @dumbubblegum @murdermornings​

[dragonindigo245]

My ramblings for Mandalorian Chapter 5

OH SHIT THEY IN TROUBLE.

BABY YODA!!!

Dang just that calm and collected baby observing. I love.

SLEEPY YODA!!! AWWWW!!! The fathers taking care of his son. :,)

Oh my god those droids are cute.

“YEAH YOU THINK THAT’S A GOOD IDEA HUH?” Uhhh... yes?

“If I didn’t know better I would think you were in a shootout.” Yeah so about that...

Jesus this girl SNIPPAY.

WHOA THAT IS SOME CREEPY SHIT.

Oh my god are they playing poker?

WHOA DON’T GRAB THE BLASTER IT COULD BE THE BABY!!!

IT WAS THE BABY!!!! I CALLED IT!

Welp I have to go do something so this is gonna be paused. If I forget something that’s why.

-Looks between droids- The fuck? He has a child?

“Did that bounty hunter leave you alone in that big nasty ship?” MY THOUGHTS EXACTLY. DON’T LEAVE YOUR CHILD MAN.

Oh my gosh is he gonna have an aunt?!?

“I dono! Something with bones!” Lady you do know- Wait he did eat that frog. Nvm.

“And then I’m gonna charge him extra for watching you!” Oh my god. XD

Bro just baby yodas little chirps are too cute for anyone’s good.

“Think again tin can.” BRO WAIT THE DROIDS HEAD LOOKS LIKE A MAILBOX NOW THAT HE SAID THAT WTF-

Toro? Like... like the bull thing?

Toros entrence: Intimidating. Toro now: Hi I’m terrified please come with me.

DUDE TORO IS THE EQUIVALENT OF “Looks like they could kill you, is actually a cinnamon roll.”

BRO THE MANDALORIAN WAS TRYING TO HELP YOU AND YOU SMASH THE PUCK?!? Like dude, even the Mandalorian tilted his head at your stupidity.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me now, partner!” Oh fuck off.

OH LOOKS LIKE THE MANDALORIAN HAS GONE INTO PAPA BEAR MODE!!!

“IM AWAKE! IM AWAKE!” You dork oh my god. XD

YEAH TELL HIM!! NEVER LEAVE YOUR CHILD UNATTENDED!!!

DUDE YOU JUST GOT LECTURED ON LEAVING YOUR CHILD AND WITHOUT A WORD YOU DRIVE OFF ON YOUR BIKE?!? Dude this guy needs to figure out something to do with his child when there isn’t someone around to take care of him.

OH DAMN THIS MUSIC IS THE SHIT!!

Casually wanting to be better than the other is casual.

Mandalorian: Yeah? Why don’t you tell them yourself?

Nobody:

Literally no one:

Raiders: REEEEEEEEEEEE

OH CRUD ANOTHER HUNTER?!? YALL BETTER BOOK- Oh he’s already gotten shot.

“Wait I don’t wear any beskar!” “... nope” DUDE THAT’S GREAT RIGHT THERE. X,D

Toro: *Tosses around gun like an idiot thinking the Mandalorian is asleep.* Mandalorian: You done? Toro: *Shook 100*

OH DANG MANDALORIAN DOWN!!!

You idiot! Giving away your location!

“Cuff yourself.” Dude that’s sad.

“Looks like one of us has to walk.” “Or we could drag you.” BRO 10/10!

Dude don’t leave idiot with the bounty. That’s gonna end poorly.

AND THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T LEAVE IDIOT WITH THE BOUNTY. SHE’S NEGOTIATING.

WHOA IDIOT LEGIT SHOT HER. WHOA!!!!

Sooooooo he’s still betraying the Mandalorian. Fucking idiot. DON’T LEAVE YOUR CHILD OR IDIOTS UNATTENDED.

NO HANDS OFF THE CHILD!!!

HELL YEAH!!! AWAY WITH YOU!

WHERE THE FUCK IS THE CHILD- Oh he’s waving at us! :)

Awww she’s gonna miss the child.

I feel like I should be concerned about whoms checking the corpse but I’m not really.

All and all awesome episode!

[hbostolemysoul]

Band of Brothers fluff alphabet: Eugene Roe

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?)

Roe is an extremely observant individual, being a medic, he needs to be. The first thing that attracts him to you is how gentle you are when aiding the wounded or ill men of Easy company. Everything about this war is harsh and abrasive, so seeing a bit of gentleness settles something within Eugene.

During the war you also go out of your way to check in on him. While many of the other men do as well, you are the only one who leaves him flustered, he also cannot find it within himself to brush off your concerns.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?)

Gene would be an amazing father. He is gentle, patient, kind, yet stern when he needs to be. When you bring up the idea of actually trying for said children the tips of his ears turn about as pink as his nose in Bastogne. “Yes ma’am” he mutters, giving you a shy smile.

You had managed to find a local midwife that was open to the idea of men being present for births. You had assured Gene that he didn’t need to be in the room, but that small part of him that would always be a medic wanted to help support you and alleviate any pain he could throughout the process.  

The Roe twins are literally the most beautiful beings you have ever seen in your entire life. They have Eugene’s eyes, and his thick dark hair.

Eugene is a light sleeper, so he is often up and, in the nursery, long before you hear the little one’s fuss (and you are hyper aware of every little noise those babies make). He often sings lullabies from his childhood when they get a bit fussy. Something about their father’s soft voice and the gentle cadence his accent carries helps to soothe them back to sleep more often then not.  

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?)

He loves holding you close and resting his head in the crook of your neck, his cold nose lightly caressing the sensitive skin there.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?)

During the war dates mostly consist of the two of you in the medical tent taking inventory. Lightly brushing hands as you pass each other. This also leads to sharing a cigarette outdoors, sometimes you have conversations, most times you just lean close to each other and enjoy the momentary silence and peace.

After the war, and after prying you out of his excited Ma’s clutches, he brings you down to this small dock he used to play on as a child. You sit together, feet in the water as he softly shares stories with you, fingers lightly caressing every inch of skin he can get his hands on. Sometimes his stories will start in English and slowly meld into French. You never say anything though. You don’t think there is anything more beautiful than listening to Gene speak (even if you don’t always understand the words leaving his lips)

E = Everything (You are my __ (e.g. my life, my world…))

“Tu es mon cœur, ma vie, ma lumière’’

‘’You are my heart, my life, my light’’  

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?)

During training it had been drilled into Eugene that it was important to remain at an emotional distance from the men (and woman) he would be serving with. Emotions could wreak havoc in times of war, and the difference between having a comrade die in your hands verses a friend could severely cloud anyone’s judgment.

During the war you probably got the closest to Doc. The feelings were there, but the words weren’t.

You had both made it back to the states, and in a brief moment of bravery you scribbled your mailing address on a piece of paper and shoved it in Eugene’s uniform pocket,

“Write me when you get home, okay?”.

He didn’t have a chance to respond as your sprinted off towards the train that would take you home.  

He did eventually end up writing to you. The letters were short at first, but as time went on they became longer. Eventually he invited you down to Louisiana (His Ma all but wrote the invitation herself. Eugene was a serious boy, but she would be damned if she let her son sit and moon over a girl hundreds of miles away any longer).

He met you at the train station, and while he hadn’t said the words yet, the smile on both your faces and the prolonged hug said more than enough for now.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?)

So gentle. Gene had gotten used to being more than efficient when tending to the men’s wounds during the war, while he was quick he was always mindful of how his touch might affect those in his care. Looking back, it is probably something he picked up from watching his Grandmother as she healed people when he was younger.

When things between you and Eugene first got serious he would handle you as if you were the most delicate, precious thing in the world. This continues throughout your relationship, but overtime he learns to trust that you aren’t going to break should things get a bit more passionate.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?)

He likes to come up and hug you from behind, hands intertwining with yours as he rests his head in the crook of your neck.

When you become pregnant one of his hands will become intertwined with yours, as the other comes to rest on your growing stomach. (he will sometimes hum into your neck as your two just stand there holding each other close)  

I = Impression (What was their first impression?)

Gene is probably one of the few men who didn’t really question your place in the 101st. He had seen enough from training with you to know that you were more competent than some of the other men he had trained with.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?)

He just gets quiet. Being the third of five children Gene is used to being overlooked at times. It was never an intentional thing on his parent’s part, but he was always the independent one. He knew to keep out of trouble, his 4 other siblings on the other hand did not.

Over time you have learned to pick up on Gene’s cues, and you do what you can to help remind him that he is important, and extremely loved.

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?)

You did, it was the first night Gene had taken you to the dock. He had been holding your hand, gently tracing patterns on your palm while singing softly. You just leaned over and gave him a gentle peck. The first of many to come that night.

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?)

He does. It happened while you were waiting for the train to take you back home. You and Gene had kissed (a fair amount) and fallen asleep together on the bench on the front porch more times than either of you would like to admit. But there was still so much left unsaid. There was a heaviness in your chests that neither of you were really prepared for, neither of you wanted to say goodbye but goodbye was inevitable. The first call for boarding your train had been called, and you two just looked at each other, leaning forward he pulled you to his chest. You both held on to each other, hiding your face in his neck to try and hide the steadily growing dampness in your eyes. At some point he ends up pulling you into a kiss and muttering against your lips,

“Stay ma chérie. Please just stay”.

The words are hurried as they leave his lips. Those tears that have been building slip down your cheeks as you smile and nod as he leans in for another kiss  

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?)

His favorite memories are more of a collection of everyday snippets from your life together. Holding hands as you walk down to the dock. Watching you light up as another wedding invitation from one of the Easy boys finds its way inside your mailbox. Seeing the frustrated flush in your cheeks as yet another attempt at his Ma’s recipe’s goes awry. Seeing your exhausted yet beaming face when holding your children for the first time.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?)

After the war Gene found work as a construction contractor. So you two were never rich, but you found ways to make your lives more than comfortable. He does, however, love to whisper or sing things in French into your neck, sometimes the tone is gentle and loving, other times more mischievous.  

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?)

Violet. Like the flowers he used to pick for his Ma as a child. Something vibrant in a world that at times can seem so colourless.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?)

Ma chérie mostly.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?)

His Grandmothers bible. It is worn and well loved, but it holds a special place in his heart.

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?)

He likes to read. The thicker books he used to read change to shorter children’s books once your little ones make their debut.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?)

Sometimes he just needs to be alone. While you want to be there and make everything better, there are just some things he needs to work out by himself. He will sometimes go for short walks, other times you will find him sitting on the dock long after supper. He loses track of time and will apologize profusely for worrying you, but you just reassure him that the only thing you are worried about is if he is ready to come home (the answer is always yes).

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?)

He doesn’t talk much. You actually find out a lot about him from his siblings and Ma when you first went down to visit. While he is more of a listener you can sometimes use little bits of information from his childhood to prompt him into sharing stories, your favorite being that one time his brother got a crawfish stuck on his nose.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?)

The dock seems to be his safe place. When he needs time alone that is where he will be, the soft sounds of the water lapping at the shore help to calm him. It is also a place that you two share together, and that eventually becomes the place where your family spends time together.

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?)

Gene is not the bragging type. In fact, as your children get older they like to brag about how their dad served in a company full of heroes. They also like to brag about their Uncle Babe (sorry just couldn’t help it).

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?)

The proposal came shortly after you made it back to Eugene’s home after ‘missing’ your train. His Ma wept and pulled you close (she absolutely adores you).

He gives you his Grandmothers ring, as he is the only child his Ma actually trusts with the thing, and because she already loves you like a daughter.

You had both decided to have a smaller wedding. Which you both thought was going to work out until you walked into the church and almost every member of Easy (including Speirs) was there. Eugene’s siblings just shared cheeky smiles and ‘stealthy’ high fives. Your family just smiled knowingly.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?)

In the Roses (acoustic)- Christian Reindl, Henri Bardot

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?)

Gene was pretty sure that if he didn’t propose to you his Ma would have done it for him. That being said he already knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?)

You get a puppy from a neighbour’s litter as a gift for the twins 5th birthday. They name him Babe, Eugene rolls his eyes and you just laugh.

[gellavonhamster]

my strange uncles from abroad

gen || Frank Denouement, Ernest Denouement, Beatrice Baudelaire Jr., Lemony Snicket || post-canon

ao3 link || originally posted in Russian 

My strange nephews from abroad I'll meet them on the cosmos streets And we will drink to how we never told you To trust a plastic beat

Bright open eyes, they are still looking They are still finding A few unpoisoned hearts No matter where you are exiled – Gogol Bordello, My Strange Uncles from Abroad

“Mr. Epilogue! Mr. Epilogue, there’s a letter for you!”

“A letter?” Frank asked absentmindedly, his eyes still on the list of guests. He needed to cross out that family from Zagreb: they had just called and cancelled their reservation.  

“For you and your brother, Sir.”

“I’ve picked up the mail from the mailbox literally an hour ago. Did they really deliver anything else?”

“No, Sir,” the maid shook her head. “It was lying on the windowsill in the third-floor hall.”

Frank frowned. His experience showed that the letters appearing from nowhere on the windowsills and cornices and balconies rarely contained good news.  

“Give me the letter.”

“I was thinking,” the maid began to gabble, “that maybe you dropped the envelope when you were picking up the mail and some guest picked it up, only it’s strange they’d put it on the wind…”  

“Miss Blumenfeld,” Frank interrupted her, “would you kindly give me the letter?”

The girl pursed her lips, handed him the envelope, and walked away, swinging a feather duster fretfully.  

The envelope was pretty crumpled. There was no stamp, no return address – nothing but his and Ernest’s current surname and place of employment, something that barely anyone should have known. Perhaps in vain they had hoped that it would be enough just to flee abroad, change their names, and destroy the old passports; they should have taken it a step further and faked their death like Dewey once did. Perhaps if they hadn’t been in such a hurry to disappear, they would have considered that.    

Ernest should have been on the third floor, presumably; Frank, of course, was not his brother’s keeper. He ought to find him so that they would open the envelope together: after all, the letter was addressed to both of them. On the other hand, there was no telling what was in that envelope. What if it contained something poisonous? As fantastic as such guess would have seemed to a third party, it was more than realistic. Indeed, he definitely should start by reading the letter by himself to be on the safe side – solely to protect his brother from potential danger.      

Frank tore the envelope open.

Dear Sirs,

I am fully aware that by sending you this letter, I am breaking the promise I gave you at our last meeting when I contacted you for the purpose of gathering information for my latest book and my search for the people I was not indifferent to. Back then I promised not to bother you anymore and not to look for you, and I am sorry for not being as good as my word. Still, I would like to ask you not to tear this letter up as soon as you realize who had written it, and to read it till the end. As you are going to learn, I have a reasonable excuse to disturb you. I also hasten to assure you that your current address shall remain secret and is presently known, apart from me, only to one person, which brings us to the reason why I am writing this letter.        

Dear Sirs, you have a niece. To be precise, we have a niece, since she is the daughter of my late sister and your late brother. For a long time, I was not completely sure of her existence, and I only met her four months ago. She contacted me to ask me for assistance in her search for the family that raised her and that she was separated from for a variety of reasons. Yet in the process of looking for that family, which we are presently engaged in, she also developed a wish to learn more about her biological family or, rather, whatever is left of it. I am writing to you at her request in the hope that you would satisfy her curiosity and her sincere wish to get to know you, and agree for a meeting.      

Her name is Beatrice. Like her namesake back in the day, she takes interest in training bats, which have been used to deliver the present message to you. Another one of her hobbies is photography, and her progress in it would have certainly pleased her fourth uncle if she had the possibility to meet him. She is a very intelligent and well-mannered young lady of ten years and a half. I am almost certain that you shall love her – naturally, if you give her a chance to meet you.    

If you agree for a meeting, please make it known by sending a letter or a fax to my legal representative whose contact information is provided below. If you do not agree, please still inform us about your decision so that our niece would not keep waiting for your answer in vain.  

I hope this letter finds both of you in good health.

With all due respect,

Lemony Snicket

Only having read the letter till the end Frank realized that he had been clutching it so tightly that the edges of paper got torn here and there.  

There was no one in the hall except for a couple of guests chatting enthusiastically on a couch in front of him. Nobody noticed the concierge leaving his workplace and disappearing in the staff room.  

“Shit,” Frank muttered after closing the door behind him, and leaned against the wall wearily.

It might have been easier if the envelope actually contained something poisonous.

They had a niece. But what if it was a trap, a bait, an attempt of VFD to bring back valuable assets? What if the letter was not from Lemony Snicket at all – or what if it was from him, but there was still no niece whatsoever? The last time they met, Snicket was an outcast, officially recognized as an enemy of VFD for disclosing so many of its secrets to the general public – but what if the organization took him back for one reason or another, and tasked him with atoning for his guilt by bringing home a couple more wayward sons? However, that would hardly be the case: at the time of their last meeting, Frank fell under the impression that Snicket would rather die than take part in the VFD affairs again. But how would an impostor know that Snicket met him and Ernest as part of his investigation? Frank hadn’t read any of Snicket’s books and wasn’t planning to, but Snicket had promised not to say a word about what happened to them after the fire at the Hotel Denouement, not even to specify whether they both survived.            

And then there was another possibility: they really had a niece. In all honesty, that possibility scared Frank the most.  

He had to show that letter to Ernest. To discuss what they should do next, and then send a message stating their decision by fax to a number provided in the letter and belonging to some D. H., as it was too risky to use the post and they had no trained bats or crows at their disposal. And all that had to be done as soon as possible.

Frank put the letter back into the envelope, folded it in four, put it into the pocket of his vest, and tried to forget about its existence. He almost threw the letter away, but something stopped him.  

***

A week later in the same hall, the maid (another one, not Miss Blumenfeld that time) called Frank to the phone: some gentleman wished to speak to him or his brother.  

“Hello,” Frank said warily, pressing the handset to his ear. “Basil Epilogue, how can I help you?”

“Listen, you don’t have to meet me,” Snicket began without preamble. “Ramona could meet you upon arrival, or I could simply give you the address and then you’ll get there by yourself.”

Frank felt anxiety cover him whole like a hunter’s net.

“A polite person starts a conversation with a greeting,” he replied surly. Thoughts went rushing in his head: what should he do? Where shall the thread of this talk lead him? Wouldn’t it be better to hang up, as pathetic as that may look – but then again, what would stop Snicket from calling him again?

“Good afternoon, Frank. Based on your reaction I conclude that you have received my letter and, just as befits grown-up mature people, decided simply to pretend that nothing had happened.”

For a split second, anxiety gave way to annoyance: damned Snicket. Damned snarky Kit’s little brother who always thinks himself the smartest in the room. Soon, both of them shall be on the wrong side of fifty, but that still remained his main impression of the youngest Snicket. Their entire family had always been nothing but trouble; it was only Jacques that… well, that didn’t matter. That had long since ceased to matter.      

Frank glanced over the hall, checking if anybody was eavesdropping.

“Yes, we received the letter. Are you happy?” It was easier to speak on behalf of both of them. That way he wasn’t the only guilty party. Frank hoped Ernest won’t find out about it. “Why would we believe at once that everything it said is true? Fine, let us say now I know that it was really you who sent it, but how can I be sure you’re not lying? Because I, personally, have no idea what’s on your mind and what objectives you are pursuing.”

“I could send you her photograph. Perhaps I should have done that from the very beginning. And enclose a letter written by her – maybe that would have persuaded you.”

Frank fell silent, not knowing what to say. Something immediately made him realize that to crumple the letter written by the girl herself and the photo of her, and to put them out of sight would have been much more difficult.    

“Please do not think me insolent when I say that I can see how you feel,” Snicket said unexpectedly. “When she tracked me down, I kept hesitating to meet her for a long time. I kept running from the past, and she was linked to it too closely in every respect, from her origin to her name. Besides, I was scared of having to assume responsibility for someone, for I am usually bad at this. I acted like an utmost coward, to be perfectly blunt.”

“What an ornate way to call me a coward.”

“Oh, I never said that. Unless I could have… guessed, accidentally.”

Damned snarky Kit’s little brother.  

“Give me one good reason not to hang up on you right now,” Frank said coldly.

There was some sort of rustle on the other end of the line.

“Uncle, may I?” someone asked in a thin voice, quietly but insistently. “Let me try.”  

Frank froze.

“Mr. Denouement? Hello,” spoke the same voice, only louder and clearer. “Can you hear me?”

He could hang up, of course. But that would have been even more difficult than to crumple the photo of his own niece and never look at it again.

“Yes, I can,” Frank told her. He had a feeling his voice sounded chokingly, so he repeated, “I can hear you.”  

“Hello! My name is Beatrice, Uncle Lemony wrote you about me. I should have written you myself, probably, but back when I was writing to him, he didn’t believe at first that was really me, so we decided that you might be more likely to trust him. Are you all right?”

“Um… yes,” Frank felt out of his depth. He ignored this girl’s attempt to make acquaintance with him, and she wanted to know if he was all right. “Everything’s fine.”  

“Great! I’m not distracting you from your work, am I? I would love to talk to you, but I guess you must be busy over there.”

Frank glanced at a short queue that had formed by his desk. The queue was headed by a fat moustachioed man whose facial expression indicated that he must be mentally preparing to raise a stink and complain about service.    

“Write down the number,” he said, and quickly dictated the number of the phone installed in the rooms belonging to him and Ernest – a luxury available to few employees of that hotel. “Call me back in ten minutes. By then we’ll be able to talk without haste.”  

***

Needless to say, everything went awry. Surprisingly, the fat moustachioed man kept his composure, though his voice was most disapproving, but when it came to the old lady at the rear of the queue, she threw a fit while trying to convince Frank that the porter stole one of her hatboxes. In the end, the missing box was discovered by the hotel entrance; the porter must have saddled himself with too many bags and bundles at the same time and hadn’t noticed dropping one of them. By the time Frank had dealt with all that, ten minutes, and even fifteen minutes, had long passed.      

There was no knowing what the hotel guests thought on seeing the concierge, a man of quite considerable age, running headlong down the corridor. Admittedly, Frank didn’t care. A couple of phrases he had exchanged with Beatrice made it impossible to go on burying his head in the sand. He still wasn’t sure that he wanted this meeting to happen, that he was ready for all the emotions it would inevitable cause, but he could see that he would fall in his own esteem beyond measure if he at least doesn’t finish what has been started and doesn’t talk to her.  

He darted into the room and stopped dead at the doorstep – Ernest, seated at the edge of the table, was on the phone.

“All right, honey. Yes, we’ll try to manage it as soon as possible. Yes, I see. Be careful. And give my best regards to the Duchess of Winnipeg! See you then.”

Frank rushed to him but didn’t manage to stop him: Ernest had already put the phone down. Then he straightened his back and looked at his brother defiantly, as if flaunting what he had just done. Frank stopped.  

“That phone call was meant for me,” he said icily.

“That letter was meant for the both of us,” retorted Ernest in the same spirit. “Now can I finally read it? Better late than never, and so on and so forth?”  

“You told…”

“Calm down, she thinks I was put in the picture. And no, I didn’t introduce myself by your name. Now, the letter,” Ernest held out his hand pointedly, waiting for an envelope to be put into it.

Frank went to his bedroom, unlocked the drawer, took out the letter, and locked the drawer again. Having returned to the living room (if such a cramped and unadorned room could be called so, of course; even the best employees of the hotel had very mediocre personal premises), he passed the envelope to his brother. He put the letter in the pocket of his vest.  

“I thought you wanted to read it immediately,” Frank observed.

“Oh, I can imagine what it says, more or less. The conversation with our niece opened my eyes to everything,” his brother assured him, with a sort of grim merriment in his voice. “I’m going to read this letter just for the sake of it. Got the message despite my own brother doing his best to hide it from me – all done, moving forward.”

He fell silent at that and turned away. Frank crossed his arms on his chest. Seemed like the moment was approaching for him to apologize; he disliked such moments.

“I shouldn’t have acted like that,” he said finally. Ernest shrugged without turning to him.

“Well, this time it was you who did the dirty work, not me,” he said. “Must be healthy sometimes.”

“The dirty work?”

“Panicked, showed the white feather, messed up. The dirty work,” Ernest repeated. He turned to his brother, his arms also crossed, and Frank put his own arms down on instinct; the body itself seemed to resist being turned into the mirror image of his brother. The three of them used to be brothers from a fairytale – three brothers, three bears, three Norns, three Christmas ghosts. The two of them used to play certain roles for too long – the embodiment of the false dichotomy of good and evil, the noble volunteer and his wicked doppelgänger; the roles they wanted to have nothing in common with anymore yet still assumed from time to time automatically, by force of habit. That complicated their interaction, which has never gone smoothly to begin with. “One of us had to do that, so that the other could be indignant later. Thanks for letting me feel like a good guy for a change, brother.”    

“The harpoon gun,” Frank spoke in a low voice.

“What?”

“The harpoon gun. You weren’t the one to give it to that girl,” he clenched his fists so hard that his knuckles went white. “You weren’t the one to enable what happened.”

The vexation in his wicked doppelgänger’s eyes gave way to something else. To sorrow. To pity, dang it.  

“I think we’ve talked about this more than once,” Ernest said softly. “Sure, it wasn’t me who gave her that gun, but I also took part in all that, and couldn’t prevent anything. And our niece,” he waved his hand at Frank, gesturing to him to keep silent, before he managed to utter a single word, “knows it, since she has read Snicket’s scribbles. And she still wants to meet us.”

She knew what they had done – or, more exactly, what they hadn’t done. She knew, and she still found them. Still spoke to them politely on the phone, and still wanted to see them.  

They had a strange family, without a doubt.

It took quite a long time for Frank, who didn’t know what to say and simultaneously wanted to say too much, to pick the right words.    

“What do you suggest?” he simply asked in the end.

“To take a vacation. As soon as we can. To say that our aunt has died, or something.”

“We have no aunt.”

“We don’t, but Henry and Basil Epilogue most certainly do. For now. Guess the poor old lady won’t last long.”

Their eyes met, and Frank smiled slightly against his will; for the first time in a long period, not just because serving the guests required a smile.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ernest said. “I’m starting to suspect you want to hug me.”

“Don’t even hope. I was just thinking about the vacation,” Frank squared his shoulders. “I have an idea where to travel to.”

“What a coincidence,” Ernest grinned. His face lost all softness and sorrow, as if they were never there in the first place. The three of them used to be brothers from a fairytale – once. The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was no fairytale, but one could work with that too, if anything. “I also have an idea.”

They had a strange family, without a doubt.

He was curious to find out if their new relative had inherited that strangeness.

_____________________________________________________________

Some notes:

The title and the epigraph are from a song of the same name by Gogol Bordello. I do not know if Frank and Ernest's names are supposed to be just a pun on "frank" and "earnest" or also a reference to The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde that uses the same pun with "earnest", but Frank and Ernest's new names are borrowed from Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray. As to their surname, the epilogue follows after the denouement (I guess).

[niall-official]

Hiii! I’ve never done a fic rec before but I read a ton so I figured why not! Please don’t forget to give kudos and comment on fics you enjoy!  Also, I reblog a lot more fics on my fic blog @verylarryfics so please check it out! 

📚 All I Do Is Want You by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10 (Harry/Louis, 31k) “Lou, if he knew how you felt, he might change how he feels?”

“And that’s the last thing I want!” Louis threw up his hands as he spoke, exasperated as he always was when it came to this particular topic of conversation. “I don’t want him to feel like he owes me something, or that he has to reciprocate my feelings, Zayn. He doesn’t feel that way towards me and I’ve come to terms with that, okay? You need to as well.”

“I would if you actually meant it,” Zayn mumbled in reply, barely ducking in time as Louis lobbed a cushion at him. “You know this isn’t healthy, right? That you can’t just keep fucking him because you’re scared you’re gonna lose him?”

Harry loves his best mate Louis. He especially loves the casual sex they indulge in. Trouble is, Louis’ in love with Harry. Surely it’s destined to end in heartbreak…

📚 Charisma by lululawrence / @lululawrence (Harry/Louis, 5k) Harry was smiling, and maybe blushing a little as well, as he accepted the phone back. “Thank you,” he glanced down at his phone and then said, “Louis.”

Smiling happily at the way Harry had said his name, Louis watched him leave the room. The further away he got, the more confused Louis was. Yes, Harry was gorgeous, but how the hell had he forgotten that Harry was also the man who had caused him to almost have a major accident earlier because of his haphazard driving? How had he allowed Harry to distract him with his charm to the extent that instead of giving the man a lecture, Louis accepted the offer of a date?

Well. Whatever the reason was, Louis wouldn’t forget when Harry called. Louis would give him a piece of his mind then and see if Harry still wanted to go out with him at that point. Because yeah, Louis was not mad enough about his overreaction to Harry, both on the road and at the event tonight, to turn that opportunity for a date down. He wasn’t stupid.

Or the one where Harry feeds on awesomeness (possibly literally). Louis is awesome and also angry. They’re probably going to fall in love

📚 Come to My Window by gettingaphdinlarry / @gettingaphdinmomo (Zayn/Liam, 4k) It had become their joke, ever since Zayn had come out. One of them would do something stupid—burp or trip or slosh their pint of beer—and the other would say, “You could’ve texted me” or “that wasn’t worth texting me?”

When Zayn got a full scholarship to college, he sent Liam a message. Need to talk to you. Call me. When Liam said to text it, Zayn said no.

That’s how it was, and they both knew it. You can text me was for easy things, nothing serious. If it was serious, it got a phone call.

But an hour ago, Liam had texted back.

-Zayn and Liam were best friends for years — and then things changed.

📚 don’t care if you’re too loud by disgruntledkittenface / @disgruntledkittenface (Liam/Nick, 2k) @grimmers did you take inspiration from @liampayne? Is that his workout secret?

📚 Enjoy The Ride by 2tiedships2 / @2tiedships2 (Harry/Louis, 11k) Or the one where Louis, an omega more than tired of being treated as lesser than alphas, is forced on a road trip by his beta besties only to meet Harry who might just be the alpha he never knew he wanted.

📚 (even when I messed it up) There You Are by rosegoldhl / @rosegoldhlfics (Zayn/Liam, 9k) “It’s so cold,” came a deep voice from his right.

Zayn snapped his head towards the source of the melodic sound, his heart wildly rabbiting in his chest. Liam Payne, firefighter.That’s all he knew about the boy with the kind brown eyes and pretty lips, who had moved to the apartment next to Zayn’s a few months back. He had dug that info from the mailbox downstairs– it was a low moment, he could admit that, but he didn’t do anything illegal, just slightly creepy.

“Maybe you ought to wear something then,” Zayn remarked, nodding towards Liam’s bare chest as he let out the smoke he had inhaled.

📚 going live by jaerie / @jaerie (Harry/Louis, 15k) Harry has only done this cam thing a handful of times when another camboy pops in to view his stream and unintentionally stirs things up a bit.

Or Louis and Harry are both camboys for some extra cash and meet each other in an unconventional way

📚 I don’t want a taste (I want it all) by thedaggerrose / @thedaggerrose (Harry/Louis, 3k) What Louis really needed was a fat fucking nap.

What Louis got instead was some hipster-looking wannabe arguing with him over the validity of avocado toast.

Or the AU where Harry tells Louis to go fuck himself, Louis tells Harry to fuck him himself, and Harry follows through.

📚 it started with you and started with me by thearcherballet (Zayn/Liam, 11k) It starts like this: you love a boy more than you love your own music, until he becomes the song your heart sings.

Solo artist Zayn Malik is recording his third album when he finds himself working with a new music producer, the amateur talent Liam Payne. Liam is saddled with the task to prove that Zayn can be the greatest musician of the 21st century. 

Zayn’s musical barriers start melting away as things get heated up in the recording studio.

📚 Life Saver by objectlesson / @horsegirlharry (Harry/Louis, 30k) Nerd Boy’s giant, dorky, adorable hand shoots into the air. Louis notices he has chipped red polish on a few of his nails and some tattered friendship-looking bracelets, like the sort you make in camp, and he might hear the distant chime of wedding bells. He thought he didn’t even believe in marriage because it’s, like, oppressive and heteronormative or whatever, but that was before Styles, Harry (Harry Styles!!! What an absurd, wonderful name! What a perfect thing to scrawl in the margins of all his notebooks surrounded in hearts!) appeared in the bio lab at his new school and ruined all his principles forever.

or Louis is a sweetheart punk with a theater background and a heart of gold, Harry is an inexperienced nerd who plays by the rules. Classmates, lab partners, and eventually friends, what happens when Louis knows he’s in love, but doesn’t know how tell Harry?

📚 my favourite colour is you by velvetnoodle / @velvetnoodle (Harry/Louis, 2k) Harry and Louis have been best friends for decades, and practically attached at the hip the entire time. Harry would scoff whenever the people closest to them would question their lack of an actual relationship, because the idea of the two of them being anything more than friends is the most preposterous thing he can think of.

Until, one day, it isn’t.

📚 Of the Earth by angelichl / @angelichl (Harry/Louis, 24k) Harry embarks on a backpacking trip in West Virginia to figure his life out after breaking up with his boyfriend. He meets Louis along the way.

📚 Superhuman Tonight by anonymous for @popularryculture fic fest (Harry/Louis, 23k) A group of young offenders doing community service get struck by lightning during a storm, and begin to develop superpowers.

📚 the little things i’d do to lose you again by larrymaybe22 / @larrymaybe22 (Harry/Louis, 11k) Louis wishes he could erase the look of defeat and regret painted over Harry’s face from his memory.

“I think maybe we just found each other at the wrong time.”

“No,” Louis shakes his head, “There’s never been anything wrong about us. You can’t just call the last two and half years wrong.”

Or, the one where being in love isn’t always enough the first time around.

📚 There’s Nothing I Can Do (I Only Wanna Be With You) by chaoticallyyours / @hazzaskilt (Harry/Louis, 6k) Roommates Harry and Louis both consider themselves matchmakers. Louis’ latest crusade is finding the perfect match for Harry, despite the admittedly disastrous results. With just a little bit of help from their friends and a lot of whining, Louis realizes that the best match for Harry might just be the person already sharing his flat.

OR: Louis is a dumb gay who doesn’t realize he’s in love with his best friend. Until he does.

📚 to the brim with fright by hereforlou / @hereforlou (Harry/Louis, 14k) The only reason he’s here is because it’s tradition. And also, Harry said it’d be fun to make Liam wet himself in fear and Louis agreed. It’ll be hilarious. He’s not an insecure new transfer anymore, thank you very much. It took him no more than a week to insert himself into a group, to get invited to his first party, and to start crushing on someone—he’s not what anyone would call socially impaired. He doesn’t need validation.

(Or, the one where Louis’ high and scared and Harry’s…also high and scared.)

📚 two loves have i by wreckingtomlinson / @humhalleloujah (Harry/Louis, 2k) “So, hang on a minute.” Niall puts the pen down. “You’re really trying to tell me that you think two people who look alike moving into the same building around the same time makes more sense than Louis cutting his hair and changing his clothes in the four days since you last saw him?”

~or, Harry is convinced the new guy who’s just moved into his apartment complex is not only hot, but has an equally hot doppelgänger.

📚 What I’ve Been Waiting For by styleandsin / @styleandsin (Harry/Louis, 14k) “Have you checked your twitter mentions lately?” Liam asks, almost hesitantly.

“‘Course not, I’ve been busy relaxing.” Louis gives Liam a smile, “Besides, isn’t that your job?”

“Well, I mean… Kind of, but you should check them.”

Louis sighs, “Fine.”

He picks his phone up from the table and takes a scroll through twitter, finding that apparently the book he was carrying on the way out of the airport was visible enough to see in the pap shots, and now his fans are excited. From about three minutes of scrolling and reading tweets he gathers the following: he and Harry share an overlap in fans, a lot of people are thankful for the book recommendation, some people say they ship him and Harry, whatever that means, oh and Harry Styles has seen the photos.

Or, Louis is famous for his singing. Harry is semi-famous for his writing. They’re both fans of each other.

📚 Whirlwind by sweetums / @darlou (Harry/Louis, 5k) “Noisy boys over at that table there, yes, you two, would you like to share something with us?”

“I was just saying that you’re probably the only person who’s ever literally taken my breath away”

AU inspired by Phoebe and David from Friends.

📚 (you and me are) the difference between real love and the love on TV by hipsterchrist (Niall/Shawn, 20k) Some pap photos spread like wildfire across the internet, published frantically on braindead celebrity gossip sites with headlines like “SHAWN MENDES AND NIALL HORAN: MORE THAN FRIENDS?” and poorly written articles full of puns on their song titles. His Twitter mentions are flooded with fans, both excited and distraught, and he clicks away from the trending topics tab as soon as he sees that he and Shawn have their own Twitter Moment. It’s all been thoroughly planned and carefully orchestrated - they all knew this is exactly what would happen - and it’s still fucking disarming as hell.

Or: a coming out story, a fake relationship, a realization of what everybody already knew.

📚 you’re the song stuck in my head (every song that i’ve ever loved) by hipsterchrist (Niall/Shawn, 13k) the thing is: niall is sure of shawn. 

[demaury]

Some kind of mistake (chapter 1)

Ever since Eliott first came across the new resident of the apartment 320, he made peace with the fact that Lucas 'Big Blue Eyes' Lallemant would, one way or another, turn his life upside down. Thing is, he hadn't expected that Lucas' wife and Lucas' daughter would play a part in it. Because, you know, he didn't know they existed until it was too late. (ao3 link)

SAMEDI, 08:49

It was a Saturday. For some reason, that particular fact in itself stuck in Eliott’s mind.

What was odd was that it didn’t particularly strike him as any different from the other Saturdays. It started off with Sofiane kicking him awake on his couch with a cup of coffee that wasn’t nearly enough to calm the pounding of a hundred hammers against his skull — courtesy of one (or ten) too many drinks from the night before. While he was twisting around in a sitting position and discarding the blanket usually covering the couch, Sofiane sat on the armrest, looking down at him.

“Eliott, c’mon. You know I like having you here but man- you stink.” He pulled a disgusted face as he said so. If Eliott’s eyes weren’t already giving him hell for the sunlight flooding the tiny living-room, he would have rolled them. It couldn’t be that late, considering Sofiane was still here. “Why can’t you just come over when you’re sober for once? That’d make for a nice change.”

A snort escaped past his lips as he was trying to swallow down his first sip of the morning. Sofiane was an actual mother hen, always down to give advises, especially when no one had asked for it — but Eliott wouldn’t have it any other way, and that’s why he always ended up crashing on his couch whenever he was too tired and/or drunk to go home by himself. It was just convenient that Sofiane’s place happened to be located in a particularly lively neighborhood, which meant that more often than not, his place was the closest from where Eliott was finding himself. A waste, considering that Sofiane was rarely (if ever) pulling an all-nighter these days.

“Not my fault you’re always ditching me,” Eliott protested, nose in his coffee. “Idriss too. You guys are the worst friends.”

What kind of friend let you ring at the intercom and didn’t even open the door? Idriss fucking Bakhellal. He was exactly that kind of friend. ‘Dude, I can’t keep up with your shit. I gotta wake up in the morning, just go make some other friends to party with,’ he had told him bluntly.

Was it his fault if all of a sudden his friends had boring jobs and boring lives?

Sofiane gave him a pointed look, before shaking his head as if he had been able to follow his train of thoughts. “I’ve got a job, Eli. Not everyone can afford to get shitfaced every Friday nights and a couple other nights in-between and still keep up with their lives.”

“I’ve got a job too, I’ll let you know,” Eliott retorted, mildly wounded in his pride.

Being overly judgmental was going against everything Sofiane was, although technically Eliott knew there was some truth in it, but after nearly five years of justifying the fact that yes, staying home on his computer was part of his job (and a huge part of it at that, not to say all of it), it was getting a little bit more on his nerves each time someone mentioned it. If anything, he was making more money that Sofiane, and probably more than Idriss as well — EP teacher wasn’t really the starter plan for a millionaire career.

He shifted on the couch, becoming increasingly aware of his wrinkled and slightly damp tee-shirt with every move he made. Maybe Sofiane was right about the smell, after all.

“Yes, but you don’t have work hours like Idriss and I do.”

Eliott shot him an unimpressed look. “You’re a driving instructor, Sof, you don’t treat cancer.” Joke was on him, because after ten years of friendship, he surely knew Sofiane well-enough to be aware that he was as proud to help kids get their driving license as any doctor was to save a life. Twenty years down the road and he’d start lining up on a wall the driving licenses he had contributed to.

Sofiane rolled his eyes. “And you’re still an asshole whenever you’re wasted, nice to see some things never change.” He leaned forward to grab his phone from the coffee table and immediately bolted up. “Shit I’m late. Look, do whatever you want but lock the door behind you and leave the spare key in the mailbox.”

“What’s the point of a spare key if you have both of them in here?” Eliott observed as Sofiane shrugged on a hoodie and fumbled around to grab the things he needed to go — shoes, keys, phone, and wallet— before literally jumping to the front door.

“That’s just a proof you’re spending too much time in here!”, he yelled as he slammed the door behind him, making Eliott wince at the sound.

SAMEDI, 09:51

He stayed put for a couple of minutes, before setting the cup of coffee on the table before him and gathering his things to head out. Usually he didn’t feel so much like things weren’t okay whenever he found himself here, with Sofiane fretting around him — if anything, it made him laugh. But for some reason this morning just wasn’t it.

An awful part of his teenage years had been spent hating himself for not being more like the other kids of his age, with an easy life, healthy hobbies, healthy relationships, healthy self-perception. Yeah, an awful lot of the time, between fifteen and nineteen, he had wished he was more like Sofiane, more like Idriss. More like anybody else. It had started working out for him only after he hit twenty. His meds were on point. He was slowly making peace with the fact that things would never be a 100% easy, and stopped purposefully ignoring the signs when shit was about to hit the fan.

As a free-lance graphic designer, he mostly worked from home, which spared him the prospect of dealing with an asshole boss on a daily basis — and getting fired because of one of his low lows. His sex-life was always a bit of a mess, but not dating anybody was making it a lot easier to juggle between the moment he craved loneliness and those he craved physical contact beyond logic. He was seeing his parents, who lived across town, twice a month, talking with his sister at least once a week, going to his therapist whenever it was needed, and every once in a while, Idriss got invested into a new sport and bugged him enough to join him, or simply to go for a morning run.

It wasn’t a perfect life, but it was healthier than it had been since what felt like forever. For the last five years or so, he had felt reasonably like the rest of his friends and acquaintances. So why was everyone starting to act like 26 was the age limit for all of this? It was as though they had no idea about all the efforts he had put into this in the first place, and sometimes he just wanted to scream his frustrations out.

The bus-ride back to his place wasn’t long, but it felt a lot like it. His phone had died the night before, so he was only hoping that whatever his drunken self had posted on his stories wasn’t shameful enough to make prospective clients run off to the next graphic designer on their list. He had started making a name for himself when he had scored a campaign promoting a new club in the Marais, two years ago, and although his building couldn’t be considered ‘fancy’ by any means, he was making enough money to afford living on his own in a bigger space than Sofiane’s literal shoebox.

Talking about boxes, Eliott thought.

A bunch of cardboard boxes were piled up in the entrance of his building. The main door was hanging wide open, a couple of leaves swirling around under the cool breeze and loud voices echoing inside — far too loud for Eliott’s still inebriated, sleep-deprived brain. He had known that the family of four living in the apartment on the fourth floor, the level below his own flat, would lose no time in being replaced — the moment the two parents had stopped fighting for good was when the dad had left and the countdown had started for a single mom in an overpriced city.

As Eliott walked in, careful not to trip, his eyes fell on three guys apparently waiting for the elevator to reach the ground floor, while holding upward the slatted base of a bed. Young, probably in their twenties. And fucking loud.

“I didn’t sign up for this!” one of them was protesting vehemently, his voice bouncing up against every wall and right through Eliott’s brain as he padded further in. When the guy straightened, the two others almost toppled over under the weight of the bed base. “I signed up for a bunch of books and clothes, I’m not a moving company!”

“Bro, can you just stop whining already?” another one said, adjusting his position with an elbow resting on the wooden frame.

“My point is, why are we doing all of this, and Lucas gets to just… I don’t know, slide them out of the elevator and inside his flat?” the first one complained.

Eliott almost snorted, and if he had been in the mood for conversation, he would have probably told them that they were fucking spoiled. Back when he moved in, the elevator was out of order, which had been a real pain in the ass to move everything up to the fifth floor — Sofiane and Idriss kept insisting that as long as the amount of years he had spent in his flat didn’t equal the number of floors they had to go through, they would never be even.

Oh fuck no, he thought.

That meant he had five goddamn flights of stairs to go through before crashing onto his bed.

Just what he needed.

“So following your logic,” the third one, a blond guy with glasses, chimed in, “Lucas should be here, dealing with the heavy shit, while you’re randomly shoving everything in his living-room until we can’t even open the door.”

“Exactly!” the first one exclaimed, then he met the look of his two friends. “Wait no- Not exactly but-”

“I can’t believe he’s allowed to vote,” the guy with the glasses muttered with a loud sigh, “congrats Baz, you made me lose faith in the democratic system.”

The fact that he threw his hands up in the air as he talked, and that the bed base once again threatened to fall to the ground under his other friend’s protests, offered enough of a distraction for Eliott to reach the stairs without having to go through a conversation he had no emotional interest in.

The pressure of being one among a million other people was nothing compared to the pressure of being known from everyone in a small town. Eliott was fine with being lost in the crowd, especially in a town where people considered it a flaw to be over-sympathetic; that was definitely something he could get behind. It was easy to just coexist with other people without seeking any further contact with them than a polite nod whenever they let you use the elevator with them, or when they held you the door out of habit rather than politeness — that made for less people asking annoying stuff from you when you couldn’t deal with it. He scrambled his way up through the floors, occasionally reminding himself that he could go through the last two flights of stairs without puking. It wasn’t exactly easy, considering that going through the mess that was the fourth floor gave him the impression of being the character of an online platform game. When he made it there, the technological wonder that was an elevator had managed to get the bed base up the fourth floor before him.

Eliott heard a grunt before he actually saw anything, then he saw the bed base move before he saw the person behind it. A boy was pestering to himself, sliding between the bed base and the wall of the elevator to try pulling it out from the outside, rather than pushing it out from the inside. The frame made an agonizing screeching sound that reverberated through the whole building and had Eliott wincing, but the guy had apparently made peace with every single living soul hating him because he didn’t stop — only slowing down as the meters added to the actual weight of the object. Eliott liked to think of himself as someone at least more observant than most, but it didn’t take a genius to know that the number of smaller boxes waiting by the front door was multiplying the number of chances for something bad to happen.

And as Murphy’s law stated so well, everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.

The guy walking backward didn’t get to see the box near his foot until he tripped over it, letting out a ‘fuck’ as he lost his balance and the bed base toppled over him with a loud, metallic sound. It took Eliott an extra-second to get in motion — really, it wasn’t like shit like this happened every day. The guy was struggling to get out of what looked ridiculously like a wooden cage all of a sudden.

“You okay?”, Eliott enquired, startling him.

“Never been better,” he gritted out.

Eliott smirked to himself and leaned forward to grab the slats and lift the bed base off, before sliding it up against the wall while the guy was laboriously rising up on his feet.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, rubbing his forearm. “I guess some people don’t get the point of teaming up to get shit done faster.”

Eliott cocked an eyebrow. “Let me guess, the other three downstairs are yours?”

“There might be no more than me at the end of the day if they keep up like that.”

Sassy, Eliott noted. He liked it. For the first time he was actually indulging in a little bit of staring. Not much. The barest minimum, really. First of all, despite having been told him countless times that he looked younger than his 26 years old, he had troubles believing that this guy was an actual grown-up, but maybe it had to do with the fact that he was rather short, or the way his hair seemed disheveled beyond repair — and, again, Eliott knew a stuff or two about messy hair. What caught his attention was the two, big blue eyes suddenly staring back at him.

Wide.

And blue.

Very, very blue.

A very dark shade, one of those that even Photoshop had no trouble making pop — which didn’t happen often. Call it a professional quirk, but it was a nice thing to see. There was a bit of an awkward silence, only broken when the elevator dinged behind them, offering Eliott enough of a distraction for his brain to fall back into place, and preferably out of the gutter before he started overanalyzing the wonders that his skinny jeans made to his lower body.

“See? I told you he would be just fine,” the voice of one of the three guys from the hall echoed behind them. “Our Lulu is the best.”

Suddenly the big blue eyes were not focused on him anymore, and Eliott didn’t know how to feel about it. He was just awkwardly standing now, caught between people he didn’t even know fifteen minutes before. That wasn’t the definition of how he wanted to spend his Saturday morning riding out his hangover.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I almost died!”, Blue Eyes protested.

“I told you this would happen,” another one muttered.

Eliott shook his head to himself, and started to retreat towards the staircase while they were busy throwing insults at each other.

Maybe Sofiane was right.

Maybe he was too old for this shit — whatever that was.

[beetlesacquired]

Klance Fanfic Rec List

I’ve currently got 118 Klance Ao3 links saved and I wanted to share some of my favorites so here ya go: (There’s a Shklance at the bottom btw)

He Who Fights Monsters by magisterpavis

Words: 64,888 Smut: yes Completed: yes

This is a really slow burn fic with a captivating plot and guys.  Dragons.  There’s so many dragons.  This author is also one of my favorites btw I love them.

Summary:  In a world where monstrous dragons terrorize humanity daily, the Garrison trains valiant Knights to slay the evil beasts and defend Earth. But when Knight cadet Lance Espinosa is kidnapped by a strange red dragon who kills its own kind, certain truths are revealed...and so are the true monsters.

Dirty Laundry by Anonymous

Words: 85,042 Smut: there’s a heated makeout scene or two but no actual smut Completed: yes

If you haven’t read this do you even ship Klance?  It’s the fake dating fic to top all fake dating fics.  It’s so sweet and feely you’ll cry buckets and it’s also incredibly funny.  I’ve probably read it like 5 times.  Kinda slow burn kinda not?  Internalized homophobia and homophobia from family warnings.

Summary: "Two whole months of free laundry in exchange for two weeks of being my fake boyfriend. Deal?” Keith hesitated for a moment. Was this really worth it? Hardly. Lance was an asshole, and he wasn’t sure what fake dating would entail. But, free laundry was free laundry, right? “Alright, it’s a deal.”  Or: Lance makes the mistake of telling his Mom he has a boyfriend coming home with him for Christmas. Keith makes the mistake of agreeing to be Lance's 'fake boyfriend'.

Ignorance is Bliss by YouAreInAComaWakeUp (Nikanaiko)

Words: 172,675 Smut: no Completed: yes

This is probably the number one most emotional fic I’m gonna list here.  There’s ghosts guys and that means characters I hold dear to my heart are dead so warning there.  Pretty sure I was sobbing through multiple chapters.  Real slow burn, but the build up is so worth it especially with how amazing the plot is.  I’ve got quotes from this fic hanging on my wall rn that’s how fantastic the writing is.  Suicide and internalized homophobia warnings.

Summary:As it turns out, learning that your house is haunted makes the ghosts a lot more aggressive. Who knew?  Ah, well. At least one of them is hot. And he's the less-evil one, too, so that's always a plus.

The Message by shipstiel

Words: 132,787 Smut: no Completed: yes

This is kinda a texting fic?  So lots of bants and comedy, mostly Lance cracking jokes and Keith being done with his life.  It’s a really cute fluffy thing.  Depression, car crash, nightmares, and mentions of suicide warnings

Summary: (4:07) okay, but considr this, and hear me out here (4:08) so like, a photobooth u can do with ur pets like there’ll be lil costumes that u can dress them up in, and u can do liek, period costumes and shit with them (4:09) omg, can u imagine, u and ur cat/dog, and theyre in a lil 1800s dress and one of those lace umbrella things omg so cute(4:15) Why the FUCK are you texting me at four in the morning with this— Keith is texted by accident by some idiot one day, and honestly he's not even sure why he responds. Or why he keeps responding. Yet somehow he finds himself drawn in, and okay, so maybe this fool is mildly entertaining after all. Who would've thought.

True Love or Something by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee

Words: 188,626 Smut: no Completed: kinda??

This is more of a collection of short stories based around Keith, Lance, and the gang than an actual plot filled fic and normally I don’t like that sort of thing, but I’m in love with this because it’s so funny and cute and despite it having 37 parts and counting, it doesn’t get boring or tedious at all.  There’s a couple angsty parts especially regarding Keith’s Tragic Backstory but it’s all around just amazing.  

Summary: “So that was…” “If you say painless I’m shoving you into another snowdrift.” “Okay, that’s fair. But you got a lollipop!” “That you stole from pediatrics.” “I’m a very good date.”  Lance accidentally crashes into his new neighbor in front of their mailboxes and somehow ends the night with a very attractive (and slightly concussed) date.

Mistakes were made (Skinny band nerd takes it up the ass from the beefcake football captain) by Lynn1998

Words: 50,727 Smut: yes Completed: no Last Update: Jan 31 2017

I normally wouldn’t recommend unfinished fics, especially ones that haven’t been updated in over a year but I honestly just really like this one.  The smut is top notch and there’s plot, fluff, and angst in there as well.  I really like it. 

Summary:  Lance can't stand the captain of the football team…so why is he having sex with him?

I Swear to You by AlyxRae

Words: 123,991 Smut: no Completed: yes

Bodyguard AU!!!  Altean Prince Lance with Galra Bodyguard Keith is literally my favorite thing ever I love it.  This fic gave me whiplash with the amount of times everything went from nice and happy to death and destruction in a heart beat it’s crazy.  Least to say, lots of angst.

Summary: With the destruction of their home planet, the remaining Galra are forced to take refuge with the kind Alteans. Much darker plans begin to take shape and a young Galra solider is made the bodyguard of the Altean Prince, with orders to kill him when the time is right. However, the charming prince manages to capture the Galra's heart and ends up being captivated by the solider in return.The prince and the bodyguard are thrown into perilous adventures, all the while trying to stay together and keep each other safe.

Shadow of the Past and Ghost of the Future by wittyy_name and Zizzani

Words: 75,120 (GoF) 83,198 (SoP) Smut: no Completed: no Last Update: Feb 22 2018

These two fics are mirror fics, which is so cool.  Basically Lance gets sent one year into the future and future Lance gets sent back one year.  SoP is from Lance’s POV while he’s in the future and GoF is from Keith’s POV while future Lance is in the past with him.  I really love this fic and I’m always checking in for updates, which come in pairs (one for each fic).  It doesn’t matter which order you read them btw.

Summary: (SoP) When Lance is thrown through time, he finds himself one year in the future, in place of the Lance that should be here.He finds his team to be remarkably familiar, yet distinctly different. They have more scars, a better grip on the whole saving the universe thing, and over a year’s worth of teamwork to bind them together. But the weirdest part? Keith seems to be a lot more touchy with him. Not that he’s complaining… much.The team must try and work out how to reverse the two Lance’s places and restore them to their original timelines. But despite the fact that they’re still his friends, Lance can’t help but feel a little out of place among a team that’s been through so much with a Lance that just isn’t him. And it doesn’t help that the team is on edge around him, refusing to tell him anything for fear of influencing and changing the past. Things get even more complicated when they have to rely on the team in the past to complete the switch, leaving Lance to little more than sit, wait, and attempt to fill in his future self’s shoes. 

(GoF) When Lance is thrown through time, his future self from one year ahead is transported to the past in his place.This Lance is faster, stronger, and markedly more mature. Not only that, but he's distinctly more intuitive about his teammates and A LOT more touchy with Keith.The team must try and work out how to reverse the two Lance's places and restore them to their original timelines. Things only get more complicated when the Future Lance can't seem to remember where he was when the switch happened, and he refuses to reveal anything about his own time for fear of influencing the team's decisions.

The Hurricane In His Veins by magisterpavus

Words: 249,189 Smut: yes Completed: yes

So this is actually Shklance because I don’t have enough recs for this ship to make it it’s own post and this fic is honestly just really really good.  It’s probably my favorite out of everything here.  It’s a vampire AU and I love it so much.  The plot is incredible (the author should publish a book tbh it’s that good I’d buy it), there are some really cute moments, and it’s goddamn hilarious.  There’s the perfect combination of angst, smut, and fluff and I’ve read this about 10 times since I discovered it a couple months ago.  I suggest it even if you don’t ship Shklance tbh it’s that good.

Summary: It’s the summer after high school graduation, and Lance, Hunk, and Pidge are spending three months together in Pidge’s sleepy California hometown, Rosewood, before they all go their separate ways in life. It’s supposed to be fun and relaxing, filled with long days at the beach and even longer nights playing video games; a last hurrah with Lance’s best friends.But when one of Pidge’s ridiculous cryptid searches leads the trio to a mysterious pair of vampires in the woods and the web of magic and murder that they’re entangled in, the summer gets a lot more complicated…and more dangerous than they could’ve imagined.

Like I said, I’ve got 118 bookmarks so if you guys wanna pop into my asks or messages and see if I’ve got something specific, please do!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #202

"a-m-e-r-i-c-a, home of the free, the sick, and the depraved."

Is there a gang problem in your area? No. Would you date an already-attached person? I'm monogamous and can't stand the idea of cheating. So no. What vaccine that you’ve received hurt the most? Oh I can't remember, I got all my vaccines waaaay back. On that note actually, vaccinate ya fuckin kids. :) Are you afraid to ask people out on dates? Well, I've never done it before. Partially because without my own vehicle or money, I couldn't really take anyone out myself. Who was the last person you hung out with? Girt. Do you watch Oprah? No. Do you drool when you sleep? Very rarely. Is there anyone you're waiting for to get on the computer/call you/txt you? It'd be fucking lovely if my previous school would give me my fucking transcript already. But communication is impossible with them. Do you put deodorant on everyday? If I'm staying home all day in my pjs and I smell fine, then no. I do if before leaving the house no matter the circumstance, and also if I just do think I need it at home. Is Pluto a planet? Pluto is a GODDAMN PLANET fucking 1v1 me if you think she's not I stg. Do you make up your own words? No. Do you know anyone who self harms? Not in the current time, thankfully. That I'm aware of, anyway. Who is the most influential person in your life right now? Sara gives me the most motivation. Do you like Gummy Bears? Yeah, man. Do you like the game Tetris? No. I don't enjoy quick, timed puzzle games like that at all. When do you normally go to bed? Nowadays it can be as early as 8, or at most ~11. Lately I've been going to bed around 9. When was the last time you did something for the first time? Early February. Which do you prefer: Valentine’s Day or Easter? Valentine's. Do you wait until the last minute to decorate, or do you decorate early? We're usually more last-minute. What’s your favorite Starbucks drink? N/A What do you use to sweeten your tea? N/A Which dollar store do you like best? *shrugs* Have you ever owned an expensive eyeshadow palette? No. What’s one challenge you want to complete for youtube? N/A If you make youtube videos, do you have a posting schedule? No. When was the last time you stepped outside of your comfort zone? Probably recently? Can't recall what. Do you own a tripod for your camera? Yeah. Would you rather go to London, Paris, or Tokyo? Probably Tokyo. Were you a bigger fan of Lindsay Lohan or Hilary Duff? Hilary Duff. Which Olsen twin was your favorite: Mary-Kate or Ashley, and why? I remember like, nothing about them. Do you make Halloween costumes out of clothes from your closet? If I wanna dress up, that's pretty much my only option. Do you enjoy putting outfits together? I'm indifferent. What does your umbrella look like? It's just black. Do you like stuffed animals? YES. Were there any subjects that you got a perfect SAT score in? If so, what? Well, this is pretty relevant (I need the scores to resume school). I'm so sure I took it, but apparently not... Do you spent more time in your bedroom or your living room? I live in my room. Do you name stuffed animals still? Not usually. Do you still own your favorite Barbie? I wasn't into Barbies. What’s the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done? I dunno. What’s your favorite thing about yourself? I'm really, really passionate. Have you ever celebrated Valentine’s Day when you were single? No. Do you have any family members that you’ve never met? Plenty of my extended family, and then I don't know one of my sisters. If you’re from the US, what states have you lived in? Just North Carolina. Who was your best roommate? Well it was my then-boyfriend, his best friend, his friend's then-gf, and myself, so I'd obviously choose Jason. What types of YouTube videos are your favorite to watch? Mark's ego ones are my all-time favorites, but if you mean like a general category, let's plays. Which do you watch more: TV, YouTube, or movies? I almost exclusively watch YT. Have you ever wanted to be a model? No. What years did you attend prom? '12 and '14. Do you like your name how it’s spelled? I'm fine with it, but I'd prefer "Brittney," as it's spelled more accurately in terms of how it's pronounced. Did you ever want to be famous? No. Who was your first online friend? Emma. Peruse your bookshelf. Which genre dominates? I don't have one/I don't really read. Does mail get delivered to your door or do you have a mailbox outside? There's a box. If you got a gift card for 50 [your currency], what would you get? I'd save it. Are you good at trivia games? Noooo. If you wear makeup, what’s the most outrageous color you use? I don't use anything unordinary, if I even wear any. What’s the longest song you’ve ever listened to? Shit dude, I'm not sure. "Free Bird" is definitely up there. Do you like garlic bread? Give me ALL of it. Would you ever date someone who didn’t believe in marriage? No; I personally want to be married, so that'd cause some issues. I'd also be concerned that they're not as committed to the relationship as me. What’s the funniest book you’ve ever read? I recall Bite Me: A Love Story by Christopher Moore being pretty funny. Do you think most teenagers are becoming vegetarians just to look cool? No? Have you ever tried climbing a tree? No. When’s the last time you ate a taco? I hate tacos. Would you be more likely to kill yourself or die getting shot? Idk. I've lived through suicidal eras before, and I don't see why I'd be a target to be shot. So it's sad to say, but probably kill myself on impulse. I don't see that ever happening, but just answering the question. 3 things you like to learn about: Meerkats, Mark (look I really don't mean it in a creepy way, I'm just genuinely interested in learning about him), and conspiracy theories. What’s something you could debate about for hours? WOW, never make me do that. Debating gives me anxiety attacks in extreme cases. Has anyone ever called you charming? Maybe? Do you own a pearl necklace? No. What chances do you think you have of becoming a divorcee? Very small; I'm super, super picky with relationships and wouldn't dare marry someone if I had doubts. Would you prefer a black or white cellphone, or a bright colored one? Colored. Does your mom, dad, or siblings play any instruments? No. Your last ex: how did you two get together? He finally admitted he liked me, and though I wasn't totally sure how I felt about him (bf or bro), I decided to give it a shot. What’s the best food for sleepovers? You can't fail with pizza. Does your mom dye her hair? Sometimes, when she's annoyed enough by the gray. If yes, does she deny that she does? No. Are ‘personal response’ essays painful to write for you? Back in school, not at all. How far can you run without breaking a sweat? WHOA girl who told you I RUN??????????? Do you/your parents have any creepy pictures or painting up on the wall? I've been told the Silent Hill stuff is creepy. What’s the best kind of video game? (Adventure, shooting, etc) Horror. I just think it's super cool how something not real can terrify you or literally stop you from moving forward. Do you know anyone who has road rage? MY YOUNGER SISTER. How would you react if your mom got a lip piercing? WOW. I'd be stunned all right. What/who do you take the most pictures of? Nature. Have you been in a play? In elementary and Sunday school. Fries or onion rings? Fries. Do you have a grandparent who refuses to go to an old folk’s home? I only have one, and no, she's still capable of caring for herself. Have you ever made an article of clothing yourself? If so, what was it? No. Do you go to arcades? If so, what’s your go-to game at one? No, but I am SO determined to at least go to one with the Silent Hill arcade game that's incredibly rare. If you were a fantasy character, would you be a warrior, a mage or a rogue? Mage. What tempts you frequently? Tattoos the moment I have money in my hand akdslfjawoei. What’s something that will always distract you from what you’re doing? Loud noises or talking at any volume. Who is the most wonderful, amazing person in your life right now? Sara. My Sara Jane 110%. <3 Do you carry a backpack, a shoulder bag, or a purse? A purse. What’s something attractive in a member of your own gender? I'll answer physically and mentally. Physical: godDAMN do hips do it for me. Mentally: an open, questioning mind hungry to learn. What’s something repulsive in a member of your own gender? Physical: just bad hygiene. I don't find any bodily feature in specific as "repulsive." Mentally: A know-it-all, bitchy attitude. Do your pets sleep next to you at night? Roman always starts off in my bed, usually right beside my head (which is SO damn cute), but occasionally he moves around to other places. Teddy also starts off on the bed if he wants up, but typically jumps down after a while to go to the couch instead. What’s the farthest country you’ve met someone from? Irl, Japan. Online buddies, Australia. Who is your favorite movie villain? Harley Quinn from Suicide Squad, probably. Man, mentioning it makes me wanna watch it again. Or maybe Dark Alessa from the first SH movie as she wonderfully played for a child (she's the youngest nominee ever for the Emmy's AND Genies, y'all) and a truly intimidating character. What’s your favorite flavor of mousse? I don't even remember how it tastes. Do you prefer fruit or berries? ... Berries are fruit? But I get what you're asking, and I think "normal" fruit, despite my favorite fruit being strawberries. Have you ever kept a food diary? I don't believe so. Have you ever calculated whether you get enough minerals and vitamins in your diet? Not myself, but doctors have determined I don't. I know I had a sickening deficit of vitamin D, though; I have to take the vitamin twice a week now. Have you ever had a controlling boyfriend/girlfriend? No. Have you ever written a love letter to someone as a joke? That's fucking evil. No. Was your first kiss romantic? It was cute. I guess kinda romantic. Have you ever liked anyone that was in a relationship with someone else? Yes. Have you ever tried to break up anyone because YOU liked the guy/girl? No. Did you ever think someone didn’t like you, but come to find out they really did? I wasn't sure if Sara liked me /romantically/. If you were a school, what would your mascot be? Uhhh I'm not sure. Which of Taylor Swift’s music videos is your favorite? I don't listen to her, nor have I seen her music videos. Do you like your mom’s wedding dress? I don't know if I've ever seen it but in old pictures maybe. Who was the last person to hurt you tremendously? Probably Mom. Have you tried Wii Fit? Yeah, it's a great way to lose weight and tone up. Who did you last make food for? Besides myself, Sara. Have you ever taken a survey while drunk or high? No. Do you have any relatives in a mental hospital? No. Have you ever worn those Drunk Goggles? Yeah, once in D.A.R.E. Can you agree to disagree, or usually get upset over conflicting views? Agree to disagree is pretty easy for me. Rodeos – entertaining, or cruel? FUCK-ING CRUEL. HOW IS IT STILL LEGAL. Who is the best female rocker? Why? As far as singing goes, I looove Angela Gossow from Arch Enemy. The new singer is fine, too. What color of roses do you find the prettiest? A pink/peach gradient sort of one. Or just red. Do you draw fanart of anything? Not regularly at all, but I have before. Do you like the smell of books? Not very much. What’s on your Reading List, so-to-speak, right now? Nothing. Favorite thing to see in museums? Fossils. What things have people shamed you for? Certain controversial opinions, supposedly always wanting pity when I absolutely don't, etc. Do you always reply to private messages? (On any website) Usually, unless they're creepy or it's someone trying to sell a product. Do you like knock-knock jokes? No, I find zero humor in them. Do you prefer earphones or the ear-muff style headphones? Muffs; they block out external sound more and are generally of a higher audio quality. What is one way someone could completely put you off on a first date? Rudeness. What about a way someone could make you like them more on a first date? A good sense of humor. What was the last music video you watched? Did you like it? No clue. Does your voice change when you talk to certain people? Yeah. What’s your favorite chocolate in the valentine box? The ones filled with fudge. What’s your favorite thrift store? *shrugs* Would you ever share your most embarrassing moment publicly? No. Do you eat yogurt a lot? No; not a big fan. What’s a condition you have that you haven’t been officially diagnosed with? None; my issues are diagnosed. ACTUALLY, I still question if I have a tamer form of BPD, but my therapist sees just bipolarity in me, despite fitting quite a few of the qualifiers for an official diagnosis. Oh yeah, I also know I have carpal tunnel, but I'm not diagnosed with it. Which one of your parents do you think is smarter? Oh jeez. I love you, Dad, but Mom is in most areas. My father has ZERO common sense (where I got it from, I'm sure) and has to hear something five billion times before he understands. Which parent do you think you inherited your intelligence level from? Mom. Do you store your bike in a garage for the winter? I don’t have a bike. Have you ever had a professional make-over? No. Have you ever had a professional photo shoot? When my sisters and I were very young, we always got Easter pictures done. As an adult, no. What’s your favorite way to style your hair? I can't really style it much at the length it is, but what I do prefer is having the short hair on the left side of my head positioned towards my face to help conceal the part in my hair that goes from "boy-short" to a bit longer. Also, I just don't enjoy it as much angled down. What irritates you about your daily life? Being alone nearly all day with not a damn thing to do. Doing the same shit every single day gets old. And fast. What makes you feel more creative? Above anything else, MUSIC. It plays such an influence in my drawings and story development. What’s your anti-depressant? Show me Mark laughing his ass off at that stupid "shoosh" thing or watching meerkats be cute. Music can be, sometimes. What’s your favorite fragrance? I'm assuming you mean things like perfume? In that case, something subtle and fresh, like a weak floral sort. Ever found something disgusting in your food while eating out? I don't believe so. Do you ever babysit? No. I did it once in my life years upon years ago for my former neighbor, and while she was a good kid, I was CLUELESS on what to do/how to really interact as much as an adult should with a toddler. Then changing a diaper, jfc. Thank God she hadn't shit in it, because then it woulda been all over. I was only less stressed when Jason came over because hi former man/baby heart throbbing that used to make my abstinent uterus cry, how are ya. We ended up all on the couch together napping, so I mean, I guess mission accomplished???? But yeah, never will again. What is your favorite medication that you take, and why? Latuda + Lamictal played a massive part in literally saving my life. What color hair did your first crush have? Brown, I think? Would you rather do a craft project or a science experiment? Totally a science experiment. What was the last thing you spray-painted? My hair probably for some Halloween event, I think? Do you paint rocks and hide them in your town? ... Is this a thing?????????? Do you have any cousins who look like you? No. What color band and stone does your class ring have? I didn't get one. What’s one thing you are bad at drawing? Hands. HANDS. Can you see the mountains from where you live? No. Did you ever play pranks on April Fool’s Day? Not anymore. Have you ever played a prank and later regretted it? I've mentioned before my sister, our neighbor, and I had a phase of being asshole kids making prank phone calls, so that. Does chronic illness keep you from doing the things you want to do? Not exactly; I guess a good metaphor would be it's like being a chained dog with the leash about to break. I can't seem to get to some places yet, but I'm putting sincere effort into overcoming those limitations. Do you part your hair on the left side, right side, or in the middle? Left. Do you have bangs? No. Do you think you look good with bangs? NO. When was the last time you got an injection? I believe when I was getting a cavity filled at the dentist, so I had numbing shots. How often do you charge your phone? Depends on how much it's used, but maybe every other day, usually? In a house fire, what three things would you save? My mom, dog, and snake. How long is the journey to get to school or work? N/A Where did you meet your best friend? YouTube. Do you use body wash, shower gel, or soap? Body wash. Do you use public transport regularly? No. Who do you usually say hello or good morning first? Mom sometimes or one of the pets. Have you ever had to work while there was a film crew at your work place? No. What’s your favorite color of carnation? I just looked up pictures to remember what they were, and I really like those white and pink ones. Do you/have you worked a job where you could bring leftover food home from? No. Who or what greets you at the door every time you come home? Teddy and Bentley. Do you ever chat about your favorite video games with your friends? Silent Hill, yes. I'm an admin on its wiki, so pay attention to everything that's going on and contribute to blog posts/forums if I'm not a lazy shit that doesn't wanna read long things. Girt and I talk about World of Warcraft occasionally. Have you ever supported anyone’s Kickstarter? If so, what was it? No. What do you like in your omelet? I haven't had an omelet in, God, forever, but I love the ones with American cheese and bits of ham. Are you currently studying a language? If so, which one? None currently. Do you have free tickets for anything that need to be used soon? Idk. How many things do you remember from the first few years of your life? Oh, boy. I have incredible long-term memory, but it only spans back so far, and I don't know how many years qualifies as just "the first few." I'm also HORRIBLE at categorizing events by age. But w/e, just gonna guesstimate like, 1-4. 1.) I watched my insane brother go down the slide of our playset into the essential lake Hurricane Floyd caused in our yard; 2.) lots of things in pre-k, 3.) being babysat, and our first one always gave Nicole and me moonpies; 4.) going to an absolutely awful daycare where I had my hand slapped by a teacher just for unknowingly going into the wrong room to pick up a toy during playtime (I literally sobbed my lungs out until Mom got me, and she never took me back); 5.) mentioning her, I had AWFUL separation anxiety; 6.) I very publicly had a M E N T A L  B R E A K D O W N before I got my blood drawn for the first time (at least at the age where I could understand what was about to happen); 7.) playing with my best friend; and that's all for now. I'm sure there's a whole lot more. NONONONONONO WAIT. So this is super specific, but boy do I remember it. Nap time. Nope. The teacher would have quiet instrumental music on, and I remember so well that if "Für Elise" came on, I would secretly be crying on my "bed" with this random vision of my mom literally melting while looking horrified. Look, I don't. I don't understand either. A child's brain is one hell of an artist. What is something that you would you say you have an advanced knowledge of? Will I ever answer questions like these with anything other than "meerkats?" What is a restaurant that you would never eat at? Anything sketchy, for one. If it doesn't look decently hygienic, I'm not touching anything there. What historical event do you have an advanced knowledge of? HA, none. What is a phrase that you use that you don’t hear many other people use? I dunno. Well, there's "gg" ("good game"=[usually] sarcastic "good job"), which is pretty much gamer terminology; I've said it before in front of people and yeah, didn't understand. Who’s the last person you told a secret to? Either Sara or Mom, idr. Which side of the bed do you sleep on? I sleep more towards the middle of my bed, but I am closer to the left side. Are you currently looking for a job? I'm desperate enough for a job that I'm in vocational rehab. Think that's a sufficient answer. Is there anything currently hurting on your body? Surprisingly not. When was the last time you were told you were cute? *shrugs* Who was the last person to smoke a cigarette in your presence? Dad or Kim, I think. Do your parents really know you? Mom, for sure. I don't feel that Dad truly knows me deeply. Like he's familiar with some things I enjoy and my timidness, but I think that's... kinda it? I mean I'm a whoooole different person from what I was when he left, and there were a couple years before I spoke to him again, so that's a large period of time to change. I do know some of our political/moral beliefs are inverse of each other, and I've got a feeling just from me knowing him that he likely doesn't take mental illness like depression very seriously, and with me being. Me. Disorders are apparently attracted to me. But seriously, as I wrote, I don't know if that's at all true. Honestly who was the first person to tell you they love you? Romantically or platonically? I can pretty much guarantee my mom was the first person to say that ever, but romantically, idk. Probably one of those two boys that wouldn't leave me alone for anything.in pre-k, though I think it's quite obvious neither loved me at that age. Have you ever broken up with someone and become bitter enemies? No. Were you ever obsessed with Vitamin Water? I don't think I've ever even tried it. Have you ever had a weird dream and obsessed over what it might mean? No, as I don't feel they have any strange/"special" meanings. Or do you usually forget about your dreams? And then there's also that. Which languages can you speak? English, some simple German. Which language do you speak the most and why? English, because I was raised speaking it. What celebrities, if any, have you seen naked? None. I know, SHOCKING. Have you ever seen anybody naked by accident? Yeah. Have you ever wondered what somebody looks like naked? Sure. Have you ever had a sexual fantasy about a celebrity? I plead the 5th. Do you think guys look good in makeup? You ROCK THAT SHIT, QUEEN. Do you like using clay and/or peel-off masks for skincare? I like face masks, but it's not something we buy. Instead I just use Biore charcoal scrub. If you have a job, who’s your closest friend at work? N/A Is there an automatic fog light in your yard? No. What’s your go-to activity when you’re bored? Surveys, usually. Have you ever worked in an office? No.

[gtsvnbys]

thin walls

neighbor au! where you live next to jaebum and jinyoung and a hole in the wall is all it takes for jaebum to actually get to know you 

so you just moved into a new apartment building

you're new to the area, but the building is kinda old

your apartment is clean and very simple and homey

if you turn up your stereo to the max level, then everyone on the floor can hear it

but everyone on your floor is very nice, there's a cute old couple, two college students, a single mom and her daughter, and a pair of guys living next door to you at the end of the hall

you've formally met jinyoung when he introduced himself to you when you moved in

but you've never met his roommate jaebum except for one time making eye contact with him when leaving your apartment

the elevator dinged open and revealed a group of guys all arguing with bags of food in their hands

you definitely recognized jinyoung walking with them as he waved at you while they all went to the door next to yours

and then you made eye contact with your neighbor, his roommate

he had a v tall build, looking v straight and proper as he went in last, making sure none of them dropped anything in the elevator

he was simply dressed in an oversized hoodie and loose-fitting pants but in all his natural beauty, he looked so handsome

when he caught your eyes, a surge of electricity ran through you

your initial reaction was to turn your head away, open your door and slam it shut behind you

and so you did just that

the minute it shut, you realized that you were meant to be going out to dinner to meet your friends jisoo and irene

so that meant you had to go back out

but thankfully the thin walls meant you could hear all of them enter jinyoung and jaebum's apartment and shut the door

a couple weeks pass and you still don't really know jaebum all too well

so you try to wait and wait and linger by the mailboxes in the lobby to try and catch the handsome man, but he still doesn't show up half the time

when you're about to approach the elevator and he's inside, the doors suddenly close and you're left waiting for it to come again

other times, you wave at jaebum when you're about to enter your apartment and you can see him make eye contact with you!! 

but he doesn't respond with anything except a tight-lipped smile and a small wave back

jinyoung talks to you in passing and in the elevator, and so you get to know him pretty well

you even get to know of their friends who visit them basically everyday

jackson always is prepared to fight anyone for you 

mark usually keeps to himself

bambam and yugyeom are always making inside jokes or dabbing and babbling on about whatever

and youngjae is usually found singing to whatever you have on the radio

and yet you know v little about jaebum 

so they tell you stories of jaebum and jinyoung from university days (which explains the JJP sign on their door) and their random adventures (aka it becomes 'embarrass jaebum' time without him even knowing bc he's gone when you're over or he's in his room)

and so you find yourself liking what you hear about jaebum

and bc you're SO obvious, everyone can tell that you kinda like him

and when they tell jaebum about it, he just brushes it off and says it's probably not anything

and it's bc jaebum doesn't want to raise his hopes

bc jaebum has a small crush on you and refuses to do anything about it

he gets super flustered and freezes up when he notices you, and he knows that if he opens his mouth, he's gonna spit gibberish at you

so he just avoids talking to you in general

which is a stupid move in everyone's opinion

bc he's gonna have to talk to you eventually

I mean, you are his neighbor and crush and everything

one night, you're back in your apartment after a long day at work and you can hear everyone in jinyoung and jaebum's apartment

they're playing a game or watching some type of fight when the walls shake for a moment

a book falls off your bookshelf with a slam as you hear a string of curse words come from the side wall that was surprising clear 

you cross your kitchen to pick up the book when you see specks of drywall and dust accumulate on the ground right before your very eyes

"JAEBUM!! YOU MADE A HOLE IN THE WALL!!" 

you stand back up abruptly, your eyes meeting jaebum's in a place where wasn't supposed to be a hole at all

meaning your neighbor broke through your wall

meaning there was literal HOLE the diameter of a fist in your wall

thankfully, nothing fragile or made from glass was next to the lonely hole in your wall

just some books from falling from your bookcase and a photo frame nailed up on the wall became slightly askew

that's how jaebum started his very first conversation with you, "uh… hi (y/n)—sorry—the hole in the wall, I didn't mean to! the game, we were—"

“you did this?” you're just so surprised and jaebum immediately thinks you're super super mad at him

but you’re just super super surprised this hasn’t happened any earlier?? if that makes sense??

bambam and yugyeom start apologizing since it was their fault that jaebum accidentally punched the wall but you don’t really care, “are you okay, jaebum? is your hand okay?” 

and everyone is staring at you staring at jaebum, whose eyes are wide and he’s confusedly pointing at himself, like ‘huh? are you talking to me’

and jinyoung and mark are smirking while yugs and bambam are snickering to themselves, “yeah (y/n), I-I’m fine”

you and jaebum go downstairs to report the accident to your building manager and he agrees to take care of it asap

meaning it's gonna take a couple weeks to get it patched up

and with jaebum more relaxed around you, you're over at JJP's apartment a lot more often

he gets a lot less flustered, but he masks it well when you're around

bc he literally just punched a hole in the wall, how much more embarrassing can he get

and when jinyoung tries to kick you out, you just reason that his roommate made a hole in your wall and he immediately shuts up and glares at you (ah, that signature park jinyoung glare)

and so of course you and jaebum are a lot more closer than before

when you hear him working on his music, you ask if you can hang out and watch him 

and he lets you and wow, you’re falling deeper in love with this man

diD I SAY LOVE, OOPS

when you cook too much food for dinner, you invite jaebum over to help finish it

which usually also ends in watching a movie or just staying up talking

when jinyoung and the rest of the guys wonder where he is, they just check the hole in the wall and would you look at that? it’s you and jaebum asleep on your couch together

cue all the blackmail photos being sent in the got7 group chat

you also use the hole in the wall as a means of handing things back to them

you borrow a blanket from them and you're too lazy to walk?

you shove the blanket through the hole in the wall and whabam! easily done

you need something sweet for your coffee?

you call for jaebum and he graces you with his presence and the sugar 

you accidentally take jaebum's hoodie after he put it on you when you visited over?

nope, you're definitely keeping that;)

you're reading a book in your apartment when you hear two ppl enter the JJP apartment

"hyung, ask her out! today’s your chance!" jackson's voice was loud and clear as day, you didn't even need jaebum's hole in the wall to hear it

you can hear jaebum immediately shoot down the idea

"why nottttt?" Jackson's voice whined out the last word, "I can tell she likes you!"

you’re wondering who the girl in question is so you silently move a bit closer to the hole in the wall

you heard a loud scoff from jaebum as jackson let out a shocked groan of disbelief, "what?? you don't see it? (y/n) smiles so hard when she's around you and I always see her looking at you or waiting around the lobby for you when you're supposed to come back from work! mark saw her yesterday at the mailboxes for nearly an hour because you usually go around 5 to get the mail"

“am I that obvious?” you asked yourself, trying to remember if you saw mark see you the other day. you immediate slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized you said it out loud

they apparently didn’t hear you as jackson continued talking, “hyung, I know you've been making googly eyes at her since she moved in! now is your chance to actually out her out! and you know she’s going to say yes, so what’s the harm?”

there was pure silence till you heard jaebum speak again, “I‘m busy tonight”

"so you are asking her out tonight! is that what these flowers are for?" you heard the crinkle of plastic and peeked around the hole in the wall, seeing jackson hold up a small bouquet of flowers as jaebum had his back to you, "these are for (y/n), aren't they?" 

"I have something to do tonight, will you leave so I can get ready?" 

"so are you gonna ask out (y/n) or what?" you can hear jaebum hum something incoherent in response and then jackson leave the apartment with a 'okayyyyyy, bye hyung! good luck asking (y/n) out!'

after a beat of silence, you heard jaebum speak up again, "I know you're listening, (y/n)" 

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," you immediately defend yourself, moving closer to the hole in the wall, "and it's not my fault jackson talks so loud…"

he raises an eyebrow at you and you pout, "so im jaebum, are you busy tonight?" 

you point at the flowers and he hides them behind his back, "well, it all depends if you are…"

"what are you—"

you can see the tips of his ears turn red as he presents the flowers through the hole in the wall to you

"are you asking me out through this hole in the wall?" you smile at him with disbelief

"depends, are you saying yes through this hole in the wall?"

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Howlin’ For You (1/?)

Description: When Y/N gets an unreal deal on her first home, she wonders why her neighbor scared away all the other buyers. Despite being cautious, she doesn’t fully understand what gave Bucky Barnes such a bad name. 

Pairing: AU - Biker!Bucky x Fem/Reader

Word Count: 3,553

I’m obsessed with Biker!Bucky. This is my first attempt at an AU. So I’m pretty excited. 

The realtor watched Y/N carefully, trying to gage every facial expression and hum she made.

But on the inside, Y/N had fallen head over heels with the house. It was cozy and cute. There hadn’t been any other home that had as much natural lighting. The last owner had completely updated the whole place, but kept the vintage charm and character. It was sitting on a huge plot of land. But most importantly, it had a front porch that Y/N had always dreamed of owning.

“Okay. What’s the catch?” Y/N finally broke her silence.

The realtor seemed to be waiting for this moment, but still attempted to look confused.

Y/N narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. “This place has been completely redone, yet kept with its original charm. There is more land than I know what to do with. It’s basically my dream home. So why is the asking price so low?”

The realtor apparently knew she couldn’t get anything past Y/N. So she took in a deep breath. “I’ve had a lot of trouble selling this house. The owner had to lower the asking price after years of failing to sell.” She took in a deep breath and then walked to a window at the front of the home. She gestured toward the only house within a mile or two. It sat right across the street. “It’s the neighbors.”

Y/N observed the house as if she was trying to figure out the problem on her own.

“What’s the deal? Drug dealer? Whore house? Meth lab?” That was all she could think of that would deter someone from living in this perfect home.

“I forget that you’re new to this town. Mr. Barnes keeps interesting company. Most of the town is terrified of him and his gang.”

“What’s wrong with his friends?” Y/N shrugged.

“Not friends. Gang. I meant that word literally. Rumor has it he’s the head of the biker gang. People call them the Howling Commandos.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “Biker gang!? Like Marlon Brando in ‘The Wild One’ biker gang?!” This couldn’t be real.

“Laugh all you want, sweetheart. But that biker gang is the reason I can’t sell this damn house.”

The realtor’s stressed demeanor and slight annoyance finally made Y/N take her seriously.

“So what? There’s been shootings or stabbings in the area?”

“Oh god no!” The realtor gasped.

“Okay… so noise complaints?”

“You’ll hear their motorcycles coming and going every once in awhile. But the last owner of this house never called the cops on them once. In fact, she said that Mr. Barnes was nothing but polite and nice to her in all the years she lived here.”

Y/N squinted. “Then I don’t get what the big deal is…?”

“It’s a small and conservative town, Ms. Y/L/N. People hear rumors and project their judgement on anyone that doesn’t fit into their silly mold.”

Y/N nodded slowly and continued to stare at the house. “I’ll take it.”

“What?” The realtor’s jaw dropped.

“I said I’ll take it.” Y/N repeated. She knew this house was a steal. But more importantly, she knew how ignorant people could be towards someone that was even slightly different. It even felt a little too familiar to the reasoning for move in the first place.

She made her offer and signed all the necessary paperwork and a few days later the realtor was practically dancing as she handed the keys over to Y/N.

A couple weeks later, Y/N had moved all her stuff in and immediately started nesting. Cleaning and decorating were completely underrated activities. No matter how long or hard it took to finish the tasks, one could always see how much progress they’d made.

Y/N was cleaning the front porch when she stared at her front door. The brown door was nice, but it didn’t feel like her. She used to always say she hated the suburban trend of having no colors in their homes. Everything was beige in every single house from her childhood. She’d made a vow that she’d use as many bright colors as she wanted when she finally got to buy her own home.

Y/N looked at the door and a color just popped into her head. With a smile, Y/N practically skipped to her car to go to the hardware store.

It was when she was in paint covered overalls, on her hands and knees, sandpapering the door when she got her first glimpse of her neighbor.

As soon as she heard the roar of a motor, her head snapped up.

However, he zoomed into the driveway and straight to his detached garage at the back of his property so quickly that she didn’t catch his face. But she couldn’t miss his broad shoulders. Even though he was wearing a hefty leather jacket, she assumed it was sitting on top of a muscular body. She also noted his shaggy hair was that pulled into a small bun on his neck.

Y/N then glanced down at her outfit and was somewhat relieved he hadn’t seemed to notice her either. She was wearing baggy overalls and just a bralette underneath. Her sister called them her construction overalls with a tone of disapproval. Y/N just ignored her.

Y/N took one last glance at her neighbor’s house in hopes of catching a glimpse of him. But he was either hiding in his garage or slipped in a back door of his house. She shrugged and continued painting her front door. When she was finally done, she took a step back and stared at it with pride.

The brown door was now a hot pink.

“Becky what the hell is the matter with you?” Y/N yelled into her cellphone.

“Come on, Y/N. Don’t be so ridiculous. It’s just a date.” Her sister responded on the phone.

“Yes, a date that I didn’t say yes to! I don’t know this guy…” Y/N groaned.

“Well that’s kind of the whole point of a blind date. Mom and I think he’s perfect for you.”

“Oh that’s just great. Now you and mom are plotting my life together. That’s just fucking perfect, Becky.” Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, desperately trying to think of a way to get out of this. “Listen, I still have so much unpacking to do and decorating. I don’t have time to go on a date. Nor do I want to.”

“It’s too late for that. I gave him your number and new address. He’s going to pick you up tonight at 7 o’clock.”

“What! Becky! You can’t just give my address to strangers. Are you insane?!” Y/N shrieked. “Give me his number. I’m calling to cancel.”

“Nope. Not happening.” Becky was unfazed by Y/N’s reaction. “And he’s not a stranger. He’s the son of a woman in mom’s book club.”

“I literally hate you so much right now. I want you to know that.” Y/N’s voice turned into a hiss. She didn’t bother waiting for a response before hanging up on her sister.

Lucky for her, she’d already unpacked the throw pillows for the couch. Immediately she threw her phone to the other side of the couch and picked up a pillow to scream into. After she let out most of her anger, she looked at the clock. It was already 5, which meant that she had two hours to get ready for this date.

It had only been a month since Y/N had moved further away from her family. Yet it didn’t deter them from trying to control her life. The day she got her first home, she felt a sense of relief… like she hadn’t taken a breath in years. But that freedom was clearly already being attacked.

Y/N begrudgingly showered, picked out an outfit, and groomed herself. The sick feeling in her gut got worse and worse as it came closer to 7. She had to stop herself from audibly groaning when the doorbell rang.

Y/N opened the door to find a tall and handsome man waiting for her. He seemed somewhat relieved and maybe even a little impressed when he finally saw the woman he’d agreed to go on a date with.

“You must be Will.” Y/N immediately put on her charm. Even if she didn’t want to go on this date, she could at least make it interesting. Flirting was a game to her. One that she was almost too good at. It ended up confusing a lot of men and having them mistake her outgoingness for attraction and interest.

They immediately started with the awkward introductions and shared a laugh about their mothers being too aggressively involved in their dating lives. When Y/N walked out, she noticed the man’s fancy sports car. In fact, the effort not to roll her eyes at it stopped her from realizing that her neighbor was walking to his mailbox at the edge of his driveway.

A few hours later, Y/N was being dropped off back home. She couldn’t lie, Will was sweet and a gentleman. But he came with a life that Y/N was trying to get away from. She felt bad already knowing that there wasn’t going to be a second date. She felt even worse when it seemed that Will was under the impression that there definitely would be.

She’d given him a hug goodnight and thanked him for paying for dinner, even though she genuinely offered to pay her half a dozen times.

As soon as she heard his car disappear, Y/N let out a sigh of relief. She ripped off the dress. Even though she thought it was cute, it felt so restrictive. Taking it off gave her a weird sense of freedom.

Y/N looked around at her house. She’d done a lot of work, but there was still so much more to be done. She needed to get out of the house, grab some air…air that wasn’t intruded by a strange man her family set up.

Since Y/N had her fair share of wine on the date, she decided going for a walk was the only responsible option. She changed into cutoff shorts and ratty t-shirt before grabbing a small purse and locking the door behind her.

She hadn’t been able to explore the area yet. That’s why she was pleasantly surprised to find a grungy bar hidden in the trees a mile or so up from her house. It looked divey and a little rough around the edges. But it seemed so refreshing compared to the stiff and boring date she’d just been forced to go on.

“Fuck it.” Y/N muttered to herself before she walked to the entrance.

There were a dozen muscle cars and a bunch of motorcycles parked outside. Y/N couldn’t help but admire them before pulling the door open.

Y/N looked around and immediately knew she was going to stick out… even with the shorts and band t-shirt she was wearing. She just looked too clean and innocent. There was more ink than skin in the place. It practically smelled of leather and whiskey. The music was nothing that would ever be played on the radio. But Y/N loved it.

By some luck, there was a single stool open at the corner of the long bar. She made her way there and ordered a whiskey on the rocks.

“You’re new.” The female bartender said with a smile that completely contrasted the aesthetic of the bar she worked in.

Y/N laughed lightly. “Yeah, I just moved here actually.”

“How about that. I’m Wanda.”

Her friendliness brought a smile to her face. “I’m Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you. What can I get you?”

“Can I just get a whiskey on the rocks?”

Wanda nodded and winked, moving to the other side of the bar to make the drink.

Y/N was able to enjoy a drink alone for about a half hour. Wanda would come over whenever she was free and asked her a question or two. She seemed to like having a girl to talk to. All the other women at the bar seemed to be with a group or with their significant others.

However, Y/N’s peace was ruined when a guy moved to her side. He acted like he needed to order a drink, but he was unnecessarily close to her.

Y/N wasn’t stupid; she knew this move all too well.

“How ya doing?” He looked down at her after he placed his order.

“Fine.” She responded without looking at him or sounding the least bit interested.

He didn’t pick up on it. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Y/N finished her drink dramatically for effect. “Nope. I’m good.”

“Come on. You look like you could use some company.” Then he caressed her waist and slid down to her ass.

Y/N slapped his hand away and shot up from her bar stool. It flew of its legs and made a loud bang when it hit the floor.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” Y/N hissed as she finally looked at her harasser. He had dark eyes that made her feel empty. He also looked way to old to be hitting on her. But there was a danger about him that made her suddenly concerned for her safety.

“Rumlow! Back off!” Wanda came rushing over.

“Is there a problem here?” Someone asked from behind Y/N. The voice was deep and grainy, filled with masculinity.

She turned slightly without completely turning her back on the guy who was apparently called Rumlow. She saw a tall man with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes that were currently glaring at Rumlow. On either side of him were two other men that were just as broad and intimidating. One had light blonde hair and eyes that could compete with the other one. The third man had dark skin and a face that said he had a gentleness he was constantly trying to hide.

The whole bar had gone silent, watching the scene unfold. This was not the attention Y/N wanted or needed right now.

“I was just trying to buy the lady a drink.” Rumlow shrugged.

“Really? Because it looked like you were groping her.” Wanda snapped from behind the bar.

Rumlow scoffed. “Oh, give me a break.”

Y/N was in fight or flight mode now. So she grabbed her wallet from her purse, grabbed $20 and slammed it on the bar. She gave Wanda a thankful and apologetic look. Without looking at the group of men that had interrupted, she hurriedly brushed past them. Y/N prayed no one would follow her, especially Rumlow.

She quickened her pace when she heard the door open again and heavy footsteps trailing behind her.

“You okay?” They asked with a surprising gentleness. It wasn’t patronizing, but sincere.

“I’m fine.” She answered without stopping.

“Need a ride?” They asked again.

“No. I’m walking.” She retorted and then swore internally when she realized the vulnerable information she just shared.

“It’s over two miles to your house.” They pointed out.

That made Y/N stop in terror. She turned around to find it was the same guy with the blue eyes. “How the fuck do you know where I live?” Her hand was already reaching into her purse, trying to find her phone so she could call 911.

The man smirked at her attitude. “I’m your neighbor.”

For some reason, that made Y/N relax. She still had never got a good look at him during the month she’d been living here. It would explain why she hadn’t recognized him. But looking at the man now, she noted that his hair was in that low bun again.

“I’m Bucky.” He stepped forward slowly, like he didn’t want to scare her, and offered his hand to her

She looked at his hand for too long. “Ugh. Hi. Sorry. I’m Y/N.”

His grip was strong and confident.

“How did you know I was your neighbor?” She asked softly.

“I’ve seen you doing work around the house.” He shrugged casually. “I like the pink door, by the way.” He smirked as her eyes widened from the compliment.

She looked down at her feet and laughed. “Yeah. It’s a little weird. But I’ve always dreamed of having a pink door on a house.” Then she realized she really didn’t want to be in this conversation. She didn’t even know why she just told him that personal detail about herself. “It was nice to finally meet you, Bucky. But it’s been kind of a long night. I’m gonna head out.” Her excuse was casual, like she hadn’t almost started a brawl in a bar from a dude’s inappropriate behavior.

“Let me give you a ride.” Bucky took a step forward.

“I’m seriously fine. I can take care of myself.”

“Look, this area can get a little rough sometimes. Especially this late at night. If you don’t want to get on a motorcycle, that’s fine. I’ll walk you home. Or at least let me call your boyfriend.” He held up his hands in surrender, like he was scared any sudden movement would spook her.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh darkly. “Yeah good luck calling a boyfriend.”

Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Do you want me to ask Wanda to drive you home?”

“No.” Y/N said quickly. She had already caused enough problems and didn’t want to be an inconvenience. Wanda needed to make money off tips and good service. She wasn’t about to get in the way of that.

Before Bucky could say anything else, the bar door burst open. One of Bucky’s friends was throwing a beat up Rumlow to the ground. His lip was split and his nose was bleeding.

“Learn some damn manners, Brock. Next time you harass a pretty girl, I’ll let Bucky handle you. I took it easy on you.” The man scolded Rumlow.

“Yeah, yeah. Go fuck yourself, Wilson.” Rumlow spit blood on the dirt in front of him.

Y/N looked horrified and realized this place was much more dangerous that her naive mind realized. Using the distraction to her advantage, she quickly walked away and hurried into the shadows.

The road didn’t have any streetlights, which only added to Y/N’s tension. She almost broke out into a run when she heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching behind her.

Bucky skidded his bike to a halt as soon as he was parallel to her. “Get on.”

“Christ. You’re really not going to let me walk home alone, are you?” Y/N groaned.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re stubborn?” He shot back.

“Just about everyone I’ve ever known.” She couldn’t help but smile mischievously. But she’d given up on fighting him. If he really planned on killing her, at least she’d go out with a bang. Plus, it wouldn’t take the police long to figure out what happened to her. Girl moves in across the street from the leader of a biker gang… pretty straightforward.

Bucky smiled at his small success. He was about to tell her how to get on, but Y/N was already swinging her leg over the back of his bike like a natural.

“Hold on.” He instructed.

She gripped his shoulders, instead of his waist.

As soon as Bucky was speeding down the tree covered road, Y/N was glad she’d taken him up on his offer. She was so lost in thought on her walk earlier that she completely underestimated the time it would’ve taken her to get back home.

But before she knew it, Bucky was pulling into her driveway. He turned off the bike and helped her off.

“Thank you. For the ride…and…and for stepping in back at the bar.” Y/N looked at the ground.

To her surprise, Bucky chuckled. “Looked like you had it handled.”

She slowly nodded. “Right. Well… goodnight, Bucky.”

“Hey Y/N?” Bucky called as she reached the stairs to her porch.

She turned around.

“Don’t be a stranger. Let me know if you ever need anything. Okay?” His voice was firm and genuine.

Y/N just nodded, but knew she would never take him up on the offer.

When she was in the safety of her house and saw Bucky ride away, assumingely back to the bar, Y/N took in a deep breath. Her first interaction with her neighbor left her utterly confused. Clearly he ran with a rough crowd, she thought as the vision of Rumlow beaten and bloodied repeated in her head.

But Bucky also seemed genuinely cornered about her safety. The chivalrous intentions contradicted with the biker gang aesthetic. He had to be a criminal of some sort, right? No one was in a gang without breaking laws at some point.

Y/N didn’t trust him. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t deeply intrigued by him.

She went to bed and couldn’t stop thinking about how much she enjoyed being close to his warm body as they sped through the darkness.

Part Two

So let me know if ya’ll are interested int this continuing. To be honest, been discouraged recently with the last of response on the past few one-shots/drabbles. There’s really no point in fanfic if it feels like no one is reading or enjoying all the time and effort I put in.